


Never Finish a War Without Starting Another

by smokeynights



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety Disorder, Avengers Tower, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Is a Good Bro, Canonical Character Death, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Deaf Clint Barton, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extremis, Heavy Angst, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Minor Pepper Potts/Happy Hogan, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Not A Fix-It, Not Beta Read, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Panic Attacks, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Rhodey, Scars, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Still Has Arc Reactor, natasha speaks russian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:17:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6647782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeynights/pseuds/smokeynights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t act like this is my fault, Rogers,” spits Tony, tinkering with a random piece of tech to occupy his shaking hands.</p><p>“Whose fault is it, then? Stop running away from your responsibilities, Tony! You’re not a child anymore!” Steve exclaims, running a frustrated hand through his blonde hair. “I’m trying to make this work between us, but it’s a little difficult when all you do is avoid me instead of sitting down and talking to me, like an adult. Don’t you love me anymore?”</p><p>“Don’t ask me that like you don’t already know the answer, Steve. That isn’t the problem.”</p><p>"Then explain it to me!”</p><p>"I'm scared, okay?!" yells Tony, slamming the wrench down onto the work bench with a dry sob. He seems just as startled, if not more, than Steve feels at the sudden admission and it stuns them both into a suffocating silence. Finally, Tony turns to look at him with sad eyes and a trembling lower lip, and he whispers, "I'm terrified, Steve.” </p><p>Steve feels a wave of anxiousness roll through his body and he gulps reflexively. "Of what?" he murmurs, unable to look away from the crumbling man standing before him. </p><p>"Of you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

When asked about Tony Stark, many things come to mind depending on whom you question. Ask the media and they tell you of his many love affairs and the mile-long list of drunken mistakes he has made throughout the years. Ask the general public and they throw around words like ‘billionaire’ and ‘asshole’. Ask S.H.I.E.L.D agents and they refuse to acknowledge his importance as an Avenger and call him ‘sloppy’. Ask Government officials and they call him a ‘pain in the ass’. Tony will admit that he is all of these things but he is also much more than that. Tony Stark is a genius, an inventor, a doting father to his bots, a friend to Pepper and Rhodey and Happy. Tony Stark is an anxiety ridden man in a suit of armour, trying to do the best that he can to protect the world and ensure the safety of civilians for as long as possible.

As it turns out, his best is never enough.

Tony has always prided himself on being able to fool not only the public but his teammates, also, into believing that he is arrogant and cocky and that the only person he cares about is himself. It’s not a lie, as Tony is confident and self-assured in his intelligence and good looks, but it’s not exactly the truth, either. Tony cares a hell of a lot for people that are too prone to life-threatening situations and it ends up getting him hurt. He puts his three friends in enough danger as it is, so it’s much easier to allow the others to hate him and spare them the added threat to their already chaotic lives. Tony was doing a damn good job of his little act up until the battle of New York, where he willingly entered a portal in space wearing nothing but his Iron Man armour to save hundreds of thousands of people from dying. After plummeting back down to Earth and waking to see the Captain, Thor, and the Hulk standing over him, he knows that each team member has just scrapped every assumption of Tony that they had made because he was now apparently classified as ‘ _a good man’_ , whatever the hell that means.

Natasha actually apologises to him for the rude report she gave to Director Fury back when they first met, and Tony can tell that it’s sincere even if it is a little forced.  Tony, unused to this level of sincerity and camaraderie from anyone other than Rhodey and Pepper and Happy, wishes things would go back to how they were before. He doesn’t deserve this kindness. What he did wasn’t brave; it was selfish. He wanted to die and just so happened to be able to save lives in the process. It was a win/win situation. He doesn’t deserve to be called a hero and certainly not a role model.

Even the great Captain America starts being nice to him, and Tony still thinks it’s a bit fucked up how he had to _try to kill himself_ for Steve to have a change of heart, but he never says anything about it. Nevertheless, he acts as unaffected by the kindness as he did before about the rudeness and general dislike of all things Tony. It turns out to be a gigantic mistake on Tony’s part because he actually develops feelings for Steve Rogers and doesn’t that shock him to his very core. It’s not that Tony thought that no one would ever come after Pepper; it’s just that he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon and with _Steve_ of all people. After some meddling from the team and a lot of reassurance from Steve that he actually feels the same way, Tony decides to give it a shot and it ends up being better than he had hoped.

They are closing in on their two year anniversary when the argument over the Registration Act begins. They never officially break up, but Tony figures that fighting to kill each other is as good as any breakup ever could be. The day of their anniversary is also the day that Tony thinks his best friend has died on him. The next time he meets Steve and Bucky he refuses to fight them because Tony has once again lost the will to live and refuses to cause his ex-lover or Bucky, who means so much more to Steve than Tony ever could, any more harm. Tony almost ends up dead because of it. _Almost_.

Tony wakes up weeks later in a hospital room with a sleeping Rhodey in the bed beside him and barely has time to think _what’s going on?_ before sobs wrack through his entire body, which is sensitive and bruised and littered with deep cuts and he thinks he may have a broken collarbone but he cannot stop crying and it isn’t until a nurse runs in, followed by an anxious looking Pepper, and injects him with a syringe that he ends up asleep once more.

The next time he wakes he spots Rhodey awake and in the middle of a hushed conversation with Pepper and Natasha. The three of them look exhausted and pale but that doesn’t stop them from rushing to Tony’s aid once they see that he’s awake. They explain everything that has occurred since Tony was last conscious, and answer every question Tony asks them as honestly as they can. Upon noticing Rhodey’s stiff movements, his best friend informs him that he’s temporarily paralysed from the waist down due to damage to his spine, but that he should be able to be released in another week or two provided he use a wheelchair until further notice and returns for monthly check-ups. Natasha and Pepper leave after a few hours of mindless conversation, explaining that they have various meetings to attend and that they will be back to collect Tony tomorrow afternoon to bring him back to the Tower. He and Rhodey entertain themselves by complaining about the soap operas on TV before Rhodey passes out from exhaustion and leaves Tony to his thoughts.

Clint, Sam, and Scott visit him the next morning before Tony is released from the hospital. They express their regrets on how things turned out and apologise profusely, and Tony does the same. He signs his apology to Clint, even though he's wearing his hearing aid, because it feels more sincere. Clint appreciates it immensely. Tony can’t help but be wary of them, though, and he flinches away when the archer goes to hug him before leaving. The look of remorse on Clint’s face when he drops his arms and says, “See you later, Tony,” leaves him feeling far too emotional for his own good.

Natasha and Pepper arrive to bring him back to the Tower as promised, and he bids Rhodey farewell before they leave. In his exhausted state, Tony doesn’t notice the presence of another person on his floor until Pepper clears her throat and nods towards the living room. Confused, Tony takes a few steps forward and then bursts into tears at the sight of Bruce smiling at him from the centre of the room, carrier bag thrown onto the couch.

“I’m too emotional for this shit,” he sobs into Bruce’s shoulder, which earns him a chuckle.

He’s also too emotional for Steve to return a week later with Bucky alongside him. Thankfully, they happen to show up while Tony is on the common floor in the living room squished between Bruce and Natasha, watching The Phantom of The Opera and complaining about how creepy it is. Tony manages not to throw the popcorn bowl he is holding and flee from the room when he sees who has just entered. Natasha, on the other hand, stands and crosses her arms over her chest. Tony doesn’t understand how she still looks intimidating in her pyjamas, which have animated pugs on them, but she somehow manages it and Tony envies her for it. Bruce sits up more on the couch but doesn’t make a move to stand, and instead grips Tony’s hand under the blanket to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Oh, I, uh-” Steve stutters, looking directly at Tony. He seems at a loss for words. “I didn’t know you were out of hospital.”

“What are you doing here?” asks Natasha, not unkindly. Steve glances at her and opens his mouth before snapping it shut again.

“We were, um, we need-”

“We need a place to stay,” interrupts Bucky, giving Steve a look that makes Tony shift uncomfortably on the couch. “The place we were at didn’t work out.”

“So you decided to chance your arm and come back here?” says Tony in a shaky voice before he can try and stop himself. Natasha glances at him over her shoulder, conveying the message ‘ _what_ _the fuck you’re an idiot let me do the talking_ ’ with a mere raised eyebrow.

“Well, I’ve already lost one,” Bucky answers with a shrug. “What’s losing another gonna do?”

Bruce opens his mouth, presumably to explain what Tony actually meant, but Steve speaks before he can say anything. “We wouldn’t be asking if we weren’t desperate,” he says, eyes once again on Tony. Tony feels his throat tightening and his chest constricting, and he knows that his hand is shaking in Bruce’s grip. “Please, Tony.”

Tony, knowing that he’s about to have a panic attack if both super soldiers don’t leave the room immediately , nods his head jerkily and attempts to conceal a gasp as his chest begins heaving up and down. “Fine,” he croaks. “Stay. You know where the free floors are.”

Steve looks shocked and takes a hesitant step forward, which makes Tony wince and he lets out an extremely pathetic and involuntary whimper. Bruce takes one look at Tony’s pale complexion and says, “Steve, I think you and your friend should settle into your rooms.”

“Tony? Are you-”

“ _Now_ , Steve.”

Tony whimpers again at the sound of an annoyed Bruce, which can lead to an angry Bruce, which can lead to his large green alter ego taking over and destroying Tony’s tower with him in it and he has to screw his eyes shut and attempt to concentrate on his breathing because that train of thought is downright _terrifying_. He feels Natasha’s small hands guide his head onto her shoulder and she begins to rub soothing circles into his back while encouraging him to focus on her breathing and to copy her. It takes a while, but Tony eventually calms down enough to pull away from her shoulder and he apologises for crying onto her t-shirt.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Shut up, mудак,” she tells him fondly.

Tony doesn’t bother trying to decipher the Russian term and instead lay back against the couch with a loud sigh. He’s so fucked.

 

**

 

Things grow worse over the period of two months. It takes a while but Tony eventually develops a small level of trust with some of the others. He realises that Sam is actually a really nice and sincere guy, and Clint, well, Tony has always had a secret soft spot for the archer. Wanda is still incredibly stand-offish around Tony and vice versa, but they get by with small talk and awkward half-smiles. They don’t see much of Scott, but when they do he and Tony are capable of a little joking around and enough conversation to prevent it from getting awkward. He outright avoids Steve and Bucky at every opportunity, and Tony avoids all human contact from people that aren’t Pepper, Rhodey, Bruce, and Natasha.

Apparently the avoidance becomes a problem for Steve, who shows up to Tony’s workshop unannounced one day and has the audacity to start yelling at Tony and play it off like all of this is _Tony’s_ doing.

“Don’t act like this is my fault, Rogers,” spits Tony, tinkering with a random piece of tech to occupy his shaking hands.

“Whose fault is it, then? Stop running away from your responsibilities, Tony! You’re not a child anymore!” Steve exclaims, running a frustrated hand through his blonde hair. “I’m trying to make this work between us, but it’s a little difficult when all you do is avoid me instead of sitting down and talking to me, like an _adult_. Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Don’t ask me that like you don’t already know the answer, Steve. That isn’t the problem.”

"Then explain it to me!”

"I'm scared, okay?!" yells Tony, slamming the wrench down onto the work bench with a dry sob. He seems just as startled, if not more, than Steve feels at the sudden admission and it stuns them both into a suffocating silence. Finally, Tony turns to look at him with sad eyes and a trembling lower lip, and he whispers, "I'm terrified, Steve.”

Steve feels a wave of anxiousness roll through his body and he gulps reflexively. "Of what?" he murmurs, unable to look away from the crumbling man standing before him.

"Of you."

Those words are like a blow to the chest. Steve always knew that things between he and Tony would never be the same again and that it would take a lot of time and effort to rekindle their past romance after the war, but he never expected _this_. Tony, who is always so strong and charismatic and beautiful, is now exhausted and fragile and damaged. He hates himself for not noticing it sooner. It had not escaped his attention that Tony always manages to escape a room as soon as Steve enters it, or that he prefers to sleep on the tattered couch in his workshop rather than in their bed with Steve's arms around him, or that Tony has taken to finding solace in alcohol once more. Never in his life did Steve Rogers think that he could wound someone so deeply, make them fear him so terribly, that they would destroy themselves just to escape him and the pain and suffering that looms over him like a gloomy rain cloud.

"I- Tony..." he stutters, at a total loss for words. Tony refuses to look at him and instead stares at the floor, a small and self-deprecating smile on his lips.

"My nightmares came back," says Tony. Steve's gut clenches painfully when his voice cracks, but Tony continues with a heavy sigh. "Which is ironic, because you used to be the only thing that got rid of them and now you're the star of the shit show in my subconscious. I see you standing over Rhodey's dead body, I see you and Barnes teaming up to beat me to death, I see you watching him kill me and you _letting it happen_ because he's your _friend_ and suddenly I don't matter anymore. And while he chokes me, or beats me, or stabs me to death and leaves me to bleed out in some abandoned building, the last thing I always see is you. You stand there, and you watch him kill me, and you don’t even care. You barely even blink.

And then, when I finally scream myself awake, the first thing I see is you, too. You’re everywhere I turn; watching me with sad eyes and acting like _I’m_ the cruel one because I can’t just magically fucking forget everything that happened. I don’t _want_ to have a panic attack every time you try to touch me. I don’t _want_ to have to scratch myself ‘til I bleed every time you act like this is _my_ fault. My nightmares don't end when I open my eyes, Steve, because you're always there."

Steve feels a rather painful lump form in the back of his throat as Tony speaks, and by the end of the speech he's on the verge of tears and unable to calm the rapid rise and fall of his chest. The words of Dr. Erskine come to mind - " _Whatever happens tomorrow you must promise me one thing; that you will stay who you are, not a perfect soldier, but a good man._ " - and Steve cannot help but think that Erskine is just another person he has failed, no matter his efforts. How can he possibly be Steve Rogers, ‘the good man’, when the person he loves more than anything in the world won’t even meet his eyes?

"I didn't want this," croaks Steve. The words sound ugly leaving his mouth and it makes his stomach turn as all of his hidden insecurities rear their monstrous heads and disrupt Steve’s fragile illusion of inner peace. "I'm so sorry, Tony, I don't know what- how do I-" He takes a moment to try and regain control over his breathing, and suddenly an image of a younger Steve comes to mind, when he was a sickly five foot nothing kid struggling to breathe. He hasn't felt this out of place since waking up from a seventy year sleep.

"I tried so _hard_ ,” he gasps. “Just- Just tell me what to do, Tony, please. I want to make this right.”

Tony manages to look up into Steve’s eyes, his own swimming with unshed tears, and he shakes his head slowly. Steve’s own tears begin falling rapidly, the denial and raw heartbreak causing them to flow down his cheeks and nose. “Don’t say it,” he pleads desperately, voice thick and hoarse. Tony flinches and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

“ _Steve_...” he whispers.

“Please, don’t. It’s not true.”

“I have to, you know that.”

“No, you don’t. You can’t-”

“Someone has to say it, Rogers,” replies Tony. His hands are clenched into tight fists by his side, and he blinks away the tears in a vain attempt to appear more put together than he really is. Steve knows better, like he always does. “We’re not going to work out.”

It’s Steve’s turn to shake his head now – a jerky movement that looks more unintentional than anything else, but still gets the message across. “Why are you giving up on us? You have to fight for the things you love, Tony. I’m always willing to fight for you, to die for you, but would you do the same for me?”

“That’s always been the thing,” says the smaller man. He chuckles dryly and scrubs a hand over his face, which catches on his goatee. “You would fight and die for me within reason, but I would kill for you without hesitation. That’s why I’m doing this, don’t you see? I’m killing myself slowly, just like you wanted two months ago.”

Steve gapes at him. “I never wanted this-”

“Sorry, boss, but Agents Barton and Romanoff are requesting your presence on their floor immediately,” says FRIDAY, Tony’s new female AI with a chirpy Irish accent. Tony looks relieved and brushes past Steve before the super soldier can stop him.

“Tell them I’m coming right up,” he says. The elevator doors open as Tony walks towards them, purposefully not looking over his shoulder at Steve, who is still standing in the middle of the workshop looking lost and crushed. Once the doors close behind him, Tony releases a shaky sigh and runs his unsteady fingers through his hair, allowing his back to slide down the wall of the elevator until he hits the ground and the last of Tony’s resolve crumples. Sobs wrack through his body and his tears create dark splotches on his favourite AC/DC shirt, but none of it matters because he just lost the man that means the most to him in this world. The immense pain in his head caused by the heaving and sobbing almost matches the pain in his chest, but not quite.

“Sir,” says FRIDAY once more. She sounds as sympathetic as an AI with the voice of a teenage girl can sound, and Tony isn’t sure whether to be thankful for that or not. “Would you like to visit your floor before-?”

“No,” Tony interjects. He clears his throat and sniffles. “No thanks. Don’t tell anyone about what has occurred today, please. I’d rather not have Pep and Rhodey on my case, too.”

A moment of pause ensues. “...Okay, boss.”

The elevator reaches Natasha and Clint’s floor and Tony wipes under his eyes, ridding his face of fresh tear tracks, as the doors open once more. He steps out and sees the two agents standing in front of the TV in silence, looking rather puzzled. It takes Tony a second, but he manages to spot the problem from his place across the room. He stares at it in surprise.

“Is that...” he trails off, unwilling to continue due to the absurdity of the situation.

“Yep,” replies Natasha, hands placed firmly on her hips.

“Why the TV?”

Clint shrugs his shoulders innocently. “It wasn’t intentional. The Widow’s Bite affected the direction of the arrow. The TV was just in the wrong place.”

 

**

 

A while later, when Tony has his entire private floor on lockdown so that he can drink his very expensive whiskey in peace, a crash alerts him to someone’s presence. He drunkenly leaps from the couch and nearly falls flat on his face but manages to grab hold of himself at the last minute. Tony swirls around, bottle in hand, and squints in the direction of the dark hallway leading to his bedroom.

“If you’re gonna kill me, jus’ do it already,” he slurs. “Nothin’ keeping me here ‘nyway.”

“I’m not here to kill ya, Stark,” says a rough Brooklyn accent. James Buchanan Barnes materialises from the shadows with a half smirk. Tony slumps back down onto the couch, mindless of the bottles’ amber liquid sloshing onto the expensive white material.

“Might as well be,” Tony shoots back. Bucky steps further into the room and observes Tony’s drunken state with an unimpressed expression and raised eyebrows. “Why’re you here, Barnes?”

“FRIDAY let me in,” he says, which doesn’t answer Tony’s question and he knows it. “Apparently, you’re a danger to your own damn health and I was already on damage control for Steve, so I figured I should come check out what’s up.”

“Nothin’s up,” mumbles Tony, head lolling to one side to avoid looking at the man in his living room. Unfortunately, this means looking at the various photos of his parents strewn messily across the coffee table instead. “’m fine. Drop the concerned act and leave.”

“Never said I was concerned,” says Bucky lightly. “But it ain’t an act, neither. I care for Steve, he cares for you, I’m just tryna make him happy again. I dunno what you said to him today, but it must’ve been fuckin’ rough ‘cause he hasn’t quit crying all day.”

Tony ignores him in favour of staring at the newspaper headline of his parents’ death - caused by the man standing in the same room as him, talking to him as if their deaths meant nothing. Tony feels the hatred that he usually stifles stir deep inside of him and he glares at the other man vehemently.

“You killed my parents,” he accuses.

Bucky nods. “I did.”

“I’m never gonna forgive you for that.”

“I know.”

“My dad was an asshole, but he didn’t deserve to die like that,” Tony continues, still glaring.

“I know,” repeats Bucky.

“And my mom may not have, you know, won any mother of the fuckin’ year awards but, shit, she was still my mom. They were my parents and you took them from me. I don’t care if it was Hydra, or Pierce, or whoever the fuck else-” Tony waves his arms around and more of the liquid spills onto his lap and the couch. “ _You_ did it.”

Bucky remains impassive and seats himself on the opposite couch. “You should go to sleep, Stark. You’ve had a rough day.”

Tony takes another long gulp from the bottle before he slides his eyes shut, grumbling unintelligibly under his breath until his grip around the neck of the bottle goes limp and his breathing evens out. Bucky watches him sleep for a moment, noting how much younger Tony looks in his sleep now that his wrinkles have smoothed out. Bucky grabs a soft and thick red blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over Tony. He glances at the pictures on the table only once as he makes his exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel very 'meh' about this first chaper, but I decided to post it anyway in the hopes of motivating myself into writing more often. I hope this angst is enjoyable, as there is plenty more to come.
> 
> The fic title has been taken from the poem 'Birds Hover Over the Trampled Field' by Richard Siken.
> 
> mудак = asshole


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Features breakfast with the Avengers, Bruce being a good bro, and Stony angst.

 

Tony wakes the next morning with yet another excruciating pain in his skull. He groans softly and wraps the blanket around himself like a hooded cloak when he stands on unsteady legs. Ignoring the photographs on the table, Tony makes his way into the kitchen to scavenge for something to eat, only to discover that his cupboards and the fridge are empty. He groans again.

“FRIDAY,” he croaks.

“There is plenty of food in the common floor kitchen, boss,” says the AI helpfully. “Mr. Wilson is making pancakes as we speak.”

At that, Tony practically sprints towards the elevator, nearly tripping on the blanket still wrapped around him and shielding his eyes from the outside glare. He reaches the lower level in no time, and finds Bruce sitting at the breakfast bar with the newspaper in his hands and a mug of steaming coffee on the marble countertop in front of him. Sam is whistling along to the radio as he pours some pancake batter into a sizzling pan. They both look up once Tony enters, and share equally amused looks.

“There’s still some in the pot,” says Bruce in lieu of a greeting, nodding towards his cup of coffee that Tony now notices has an animated picture of a cat in a lab coat on it.

He tugs the blanket further over his head and grabs his ‘World’s #1 Asshole’ (courtesy of Rhodey) mug and fills it to the brim with rich and steaming coffee. Sam wrinkles his nose at the black drink, preferring a sweeter one himself, as Tony places it on the countertop. He goes back to flipping pancakes while Tony seats himself next to Bruce, but it proves rather difficult with the blanket still wrapped around him.

“Rough night, I’m guessing?” says Sam cheerfully.

“Rough isn’t even the word for it,” mumbles Tony, who is now seated on a barstool and curled around his mug protectively. Bruce glances at him with barely concealed amusement and a sliver of concern. “Spending hours trying to fix a fuck up caused by Barton and Romanoff can do that to a guy.”

“At least you had good company,” says Clint, appearing by Tony’s elbow with a wide grin and Wanda following behind him. Tony just about manages to suppress his surprised flinch. Clint takes one look at Tony and whistles, which makes the engineer grunt as the loud noise worsens his headache. The archer grins apologetically at him. “Sorry, man, but you look like shit. How much did you drink last night?”

“Too much,” murmurs Bruce. Tony shoots him a look.

“I’ve been far worse, believe me. This is nothing.”

“Still hurts like a bitch, though, right?” asks Sam, sliding a plate of four stacked pancakes to Tony along with various syrups, butter, and fruit. Tony allows a square of butter to melt over them and then douses the pancakes in maple syrup before nodding his head.

“You bet,” he replies, voice muffled around the delicious pancakes. “Fuck, I love these pancakes. They’re almost as good as Natasha’s ptichye moloko cakes.”

“It’s a good thing you included the word ‘almost’, Stark.”

Natasha rounds the other side of the breakfast bar, nudging past Sam on her way to the fridge. She grabs the carton of pulp free orange juice and pours herself a glass before hoisting herself up onto the countertop next to where Sam is serving up more pancakes. An amused smile is pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“Those cakes are my lifeline, I couldn’t live without them,” says Tony through another mouthful of pancakes, washing the remnants away with scorching hot coffee before continuing. “Plus, you haven’t made them in a while, so this is my way of subtly hinting.”

“Does it not defeat the purpose of subtly hinting if you _tell_ them you’re hinting?” says Wanda, head tilted to the side as she frowns. Clint points at her and nods with his eyebrows raised pointedly.

“That,” says Natasha. She pauses to take a sip of orange juice. “is very true.”

Tony groans and rests his forehead on the cool countertop, closing his eyes momentarily as the blanket falls even further over his head. “I’m hungover,” he whines. “Shut up and let me be.”

Tony hears the faint rustling of a newspaper and turns his head to see Bruce draining the last of his coffee and setting the newspaper down. He smiles encouragingly at Tony. “I have some work to do for the morning, but feel free to join me later and we can work on that project some more. I have a few new ideas that could really speed things along.”

“Sure thing, Brucie Bear,” murmurs Tony tiredly. Bruce places a warm, comforting palm on Tony’s shoulder before he leaves. Wanda hops into the vacated barstool and throws Tony a small smile before gratefully accepting her plate of pancakes from Sam. Clint accepts his with a lot less manners, only remembering to thank the chef after shoving the entire first pancake into his mouth. He grins at Sam instead, which results in a lot of half-chewed food on display.

“It’s no problem, man, just close your damn mouth.”

Despite the horrible pounding in his skull that medication can’t force away, Tony is having a pretty good morning. Good enough, in fact, that he almost entirely forgets about the fact that he has thrown away everything he holds close to his heart. It’s a good morning, until Steve and Bucky walk in after their run. Tony is in the middle of popping another advil and listening intently to Sam’s story about how he recently dealt with a racist reporter when they enter, and at first he doesn’t even notice. In fact, the only reason he notices at all is because of the cheerful greetings and the raised eyebrow Natasha is aiming at him from across the kitchen.

He looks over his shoulder and catches Steve’s eye for one very long and very painful moment before Tony has to look away. He doesn’t spare Bucky a glance and refocuses on Sam, plastering on an entirely fake smile as he says, “C’mon, keep going.”

If Sam notices the awkward tension, he doesn’t mention it and instead launches back into the story. By the end of his tale, Clint is laughing into his fist and Wanda is giggling, and Tony’s smile is small but genuine, which is a rarity these days. It fades away quickly, though, and he’s almost certain that he hears Natasha sigh from across the room.

“I’m so proud of you, Bird Brain. You’ve done Clint and me proud,” he mocks. Sam bows jokingly and waggles his eyebrows. Tony hops down from his seat and backs up towards the doorway, ignoring Bucky and Steve and the swell of pain in his chest. “Well, I’ve got shit to do and not enough time to do it, so I’m going to go do what I do best.”

Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes. “And what’s that? Drink?” he says with a sneer. Steve’s eyes widen and he thumps his companion on the arm rather hard, if Barnes’ flinch is anything to go by, but Tony doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he flips the former assassin the bird and turns swiftly on his heel to exit the kitchen, blanket billowing behind him like a cape.

The kitchen is silent for a moment until Natasha hops down from the counter gracefully and gives Bucky a stern look. “Grow up, James.”

Sam nods in agreement. “That shit was cold, man.”

“Way outta line,” voices Clint.

Bucky looks at them all in disbelief. Steve has wrung his hands together and is looking down at the floor, seemingly entranced by the dirt on his trainers. Even Wanda, who isn’t overly fond of Tony, nods in agreement with the others. Bucky huffs and crosses his large arms over his chest, shaking his head and causing strands of dark hair to fall from the loose bun tied at the nape of his neck.

“Unbelievable. You don’t have to stand up for him just because he’s a fuckin’ alcoholic. He shouldn’t get-”

“That’s enough,” interrupts Steve, voice cold and glare even colder. A single look from him is all it takes to quell the argument before it has even started. “You don’t fight my battles for me, Buck. I get you’re trying to help, but if that’s how you go about it then you shouldn’t even bother.”

A brief flash of hurt appears on Steve’s face before he flees from the room. Bucky makes an attempt to give chase, but Natasha grabs him by the flesh arm and shakes her head. He could easily break free from her grasp if he so wished, but Bucky realises that it’s probably best if Steve cools down for a bit. He’ll find him later.

 

**

 

It’s Bruce who discovers Tony later, typing rapidly on his tablet with his left hand and flicking around various holographic images and enlarging them with his right. Three empty beer bottles, one of which is in pieces on the floor, lay scattered around Tony like a trail of breadcrumbs. The fourth bottle is perched on top of a stack of documents and is half empty. Bruce catches sight of the holographic plans and images on display and winces in sympathy.

“You know, I sometimes find myself missing JARVIS,” he says gently, making his presence known. Tony barely flinches, just minimises his work and glances over his shoulder at the doctor. Bruce walks further into the room with a melancholic smile. “I know we have FRIDAY, but it’s just not the same.”

Tony remains silent. Bruce isn’t surprised in the slightest and continues on.

“You didn’t come to find me earlier,” he states. “Why?”

Tony shrugs. “I got... sidetracked. Sorry.”

“Should you be drinking that much with your pills?” asks Bruce, ignoring the unnecessary apology. The engineer sucks in a sharp breath and turns to another workbench to begin tinkering with an indistinguishable jumble of metal and wires in a vain attempt to avoid their inevitable conversation. “Tony, I really think-”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “I’m not telling anyone, and you better not either, Bruce. I mean it. It was hard enough for me to trust you with this. _Rhodey_ doesn’t even know. I can’t tell anyone else because they’ll make it into a big deal. Don’t make me regret confiding in you.”

Bruce sighs and scratches the back of his neck. “I won’t tell anyone, Tony.” Tony sighs with relief and his shoulders sag from their previously tensed position. “But that means that you actually have to tell me what’s going on. I barely know what the pills are for, and I spotted Steve running out of things to break in the gym earlier, so obviously something isn’t right.”

Tony swallows thickly and turns around to look his friend in the eyes, smiling at him sadly. Bruce observes the way Tony idly massages a spot above the arc reactor with the heel of his sweaty palm and the way his other hand is stuffed deep inside the pocket of his faded but no doubt expensive jeans.

“I, uh,” Tony licks his lips nervously. “Everything’s just... worse. My panic attacks, my nightmares, my drinking. They’re all so much worse than they were before the whole Registration Act and the fight that followed it. I’m terrified all the time, I only sleep when it’s induced by alcohol and at that my nightmares wake me up after an hour. I can’t look at Steve without feeling like I’m about to be attacked. It’s as if danger is lurking around every corner.”

“That sounds an awful lot like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” mutters Bruce, to which Tony laughs. The doctor’s expression turns cold. “This is serious, Tony. You should have told me sooner.”

“So you could, what, bring me to a therapist and I’d magically get better? Give me more pills? I’d rather drink myself to death,” sneers Tony.

“You already _are_ , Tony!” exclaims Bruce, flinging his arms out as he stares at his friend incredulously. “Drinking won’t help you get better, but the right treatment can. Treatment brings hope.”

For a moment, Tony stares at Bruce like he’s the dumbest man he’s ever met. Bruce isn’t offended, and he merely waits until Tony says what he wants to say. It comes out after another long moment of silence. “Has it not occurred to you,” he whispers quietly. “That maybe I don’t want to get better?”

“I- Tony, what- of course you want to get better!”

“No, I don’t. I wish I did, but I don’t anymore. It all seems so pointless to me now. There’s just going to be more pain and suffering after this, and I’ll have to get better all over again and put on a strong face that no one fucking believes anymore, and for what? Nothing matters. I’m a burden, and a pain, and I’m tired of acting like everything is okay when it’s _not_. Things haven’t been okay for a very long time, Bruce. I’ve suffered through it for long enough. I think I’m entitled to a break.”

Bruce stares at him with large, concerned eyes. “Of course you deserve a break, Tony, but not a permanent one. That isn’t the answer and you know it. It’s the alcohol talking, okay? It’s getting to your head. I know you’re tired – I am, too – and I’ve been where you are now and _I know how you feel_ , Tony. I truly, honestly, understand. So, I’m going to be selfish and make sure you stay around for a very long time because I’ve never known anyone who can truly understand what it’s like to feel this way and now that I do, I’m not going to let you leave. I need you, Tony. If you’re not going to stay around for you, at least stay around for me.”

Tony looks torn. “I’ve always told you that I’d do anything for you, Bruce... but I never expected _this_ to be the first thing you ask of me,” he says quietly.

“That makes two of us,” Bruce responds. His voice is gentle and soothing and washes over Tony like a calming tide. “Please, do this one thing for me.”

“I’ll try,” mutters Tony after a long pause. He scratches absentmindedly at his arms which are crossed over his chest like a protective barrier. “For you, I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

 

**

 

“You know,” says Tony later. He and Bruce are working side by side in Bruce’s special lab in the Tower just like old times, except for the unusual silence that has fallen amongst the two scientists. Whenever they worked together in the past Bruce merely listened to the other man’s incessant babbling and made interested sounds when appropriate. He never thought that he’d miss the constant stream of conversation, but now he craves it more than anything. “This isn’t just about Steve. He’s only one problem amongst the dozen others.”

Bruce glances at Tony over the rim of his glasses with a reassuring smile. “I know,” he replies. Tony releases a relieved huff of air. “It can’t be easy seeing him around here all the time, though. I don’t know exactly what went down while I was gone, and I don’t think I want to, but I just want to let you know that I’m proud of you, Tony. You didn’t have to allow him back, nor did you have to let James stay, but you did anyway. You’re a better man than you think you are.”

Tony freezes, looking as if he’s about to collapse, and stares at Bruce in something akin to childish confusion - as if he cannot understand why Bruce would say such a thing. Eventually, he swallows and says, “Thanks, Brucie Bear.”

Bruce considers this progress, no matter how small it may be.

 

**

 

The next time that Steve and Tony meet in the Tower, Steve is getting his ass handed to him by Natasha while Bucky cheers them both on from the sidelines, depending on who’s got the upper hand, like a dedicated sports fan would at a game. They’re the first to use the new and improved training room on the basement level of the Tower and despite his unease at being in the same room as Steve and Bucky, it pleases him greatly to see that the room he worked so hard on is finally getting some use. The only reason that Tony is even in the training room and not up in his lab is because one of the moving targets has gotten stuck, a fact which FRIDAY notified him of after Natasha had used the targets to try out her new Widow’s Bite prototypes. He concludes that Steve, and presumably Bucky, have yet to notice him slaving away in the corner of the training room since they haven’t said anything to him or made any smart comments (in Bucky’s case) since entering twenty minutes ago. Natasha, he knows, has seen him because she sees everything. It’s a widely known fact.

Tony remains silent while he fixes the target, not wanting to alert Steve or Barnes to his presence, until the piece of wiring suddenly sparks and scalds his hand, causing Tony to drop his tools with a loud ‘clang’.

“Ah, shit,” he mutters angrily, staring down at the skin on his left hand which is bright red and looks as if it may blister.

“Are you okay, Tony?” calls Natasha from the centre of the floor. He looks up just in time to see Steve look at her in surprise.

“You knew he was in here the whole time and didn’t say anything?” he asks.

Natasha raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “He wasn’t that hard to miss, Steve. Don’t blame me for your lack of observational skills.”

As Steve fires back another response, Tony stands and makes his way across the room by staying as close to the wall as he can without looking afraid. Bucky eyes him suspiciously, apparently not fooled by Tony’s technique. Tony is too busy gently feeling the burnt area that he doesn’t notice Steve walk up behind him.

“Is it ba-” He stops when Tony jumps practically out of his skin and presses his back against the wall, staring at Steve with wide eyes and making himself look ten times smaller than he already is. Steve internally curses himself for being careless and not thinking that _of course_ a sudden noise would frighten Tony, _who suffers from anxiety_. What was he thinking? “I- Sorry,” he mutters. “Are you okay, though? It’s not too bad?”

“It’s fine,” replies Tony. Steve cannot hide the hurt in his eyes at the abrupt answer and Tony’s expression turns stoic.

“Are you sure? I mean it looks like-”

“I said that it’s fine, Rogers. Leave it alone. I’m not your concern anymore.” Steve’s breath catches in the back of his throat at the reminder, which seems as if it only fuels Tony’s annoyance. “Don’t do that- that look. Whatever you’re hoping for between us isn’t going to happen. We’re not even friends. You’re Captain America, you’re the boss, and that’s all you are to me anymore. It’d be best for everyone if you remembered that.”

A long, awkward silence ensues. Tony feels oddly satisfied with his outburst, even if the look on Steve’s face tugs painfully at his heartstrings. He has said what he has needed to say for quite a while and, according to various articles, that’s one of the first steps to recovery or inner peace or some other bullshit. Tony knows that Steve needed to hear it as much as he needed to say it but, looking into Steve’s sad eyes, he feels his certainty turn to doubt. Tony goes to leave, cradling his burnt hand close to his chest as he turns on his heel, but Steve follows.

“Tony.” His voice cracks as he says Tony’s name. Tony continues walking, trying to ignore the large blonde directly behind him and the building panic and anger rising within him. “Tony, will you listen to me for a second?”

Tony spins around and points a finger at Steve’s chest. “ _No_. I will not listen to you for a second because I already know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say that we can make this work, that you’ll stay with me and help me through whatever I’m going through. But guess what, Steve?  Love doesn’t fix everything. You mean well - you always do - but your love is not what I need right now. I need space and time and you’re not giving me that. You need to let us, let _me_ , go.” Tony’s hand falls away from Steve’s chest and goes limp at his side. His heart rate picked up a significant amount somewhere during his rant, but Tony isn’t finished yet. “If you ever loved me, you would do this for me.”

Steve looks down at the floor and chews on his bottom lip. Without looking up, because apparently Steve can stare the baddest of the bad in the eyes without flinching but can’t for the life of him make simple eye contact with Tony, the super soldier nods his head. “Okay,” he murmurs lowly. “I’ll try... I promise.”

Tony nods and flees from the room before anything else can be said. Steve is left staring after him, wanting nothing more than to run after his ex-lover but knowing that it would be unwelcome. Steve is left with a single thought running through his mind like a mantra: _When did everything change?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those curious, Ptichye Moloko (in English: Bird's Milk) cakes are famous Russian soufflé cakes and is also a popular candy.
> 
> I wrote a good portion of this chapter while listening to the song "I Was So Sure" by Former Vandal so I would highly recommend listening to it. The lyrics remind me a lot of Tony, especially the lines: "I was so sure but I fell short. I thought I'd stand tall, and shake the ashes off. I told myself that I could be strong. I was so sure."
> 
> I would also like to thank everyone who has given kudos, commented, and bookmarked this fic because it means an awful lot to an amateur writer like myself. So, thank you! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.
> 
> (Real Talk: Is Steve ever going to realise that his actions have consequences? Who knows.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes more Tony angst, a workout with Natasha, and a conversation with one Bucky Barnes.

Days later, Tony is wearing a crisp grey suit with a white shirt and a sky blue tie that had been loosened the second the board meeting concluded, and is walking down the corridor trying to ignore Pepper’s voice, which is steadily growing louder and louder as they near the elevator and the distance between them and the lobby grows. The doors to the elevator open without Tony having to say a word and he continues to stay silent the entire ride up to the common floor in hopes that by the time they reach their destination Pepper will have calmed down. She doesn’t.

“What were you thinking, Tony?! You cannot just say that to-”

Sam waves at Tony from the living room and then raises his eyebrows in surprise once he catches sight of a fuming Pepper Potts. Tony shrugs his shoulders minutely, as if to say _what can you do?_ It earns him a smile from Sam and a thump on the arm from his friend.

“Are you even listening to me?!” she exclaims. Tony sighs loudly and throws his hands into the air.

“ _Yes_ , Pep.”

“Then tell me what the hell you were thinking when you told the CEO of a company that has expressed interest in a multi-billion dollar partnership that he ‘must have stuck his company up his ass because of how shit it is’ _and_ that you ‘will never go into business with someone that looks like Donatello from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’! Do you want this company to fail?!”

A loud crash sounds from the kitchen and they both look towards the opening leading into it to see Clint lying on the floor, shaking with silent laughter. Tony hears the low murmur of other voices in the kitchen, too, but ignores them in favour of defending himself against Pepper’s yelling.

“Of course I don’t want my business to fail, Pepper, but did you hear what he said to me?! There’s no way that I was going to let that slide, let alone go into business with him. You were sick of him, too, admit it! If you ask me, it was a close call. He sounded just like -” Tony stops abruptly, unable to form the words _my father_ and Pepper seems to deflate like a balloon, giving him a sad look. Tony swallows and looks away from her. “He sounded just like Howard. I spent 21 years dealing with him, so there’s no way that I’m going into business with another abusive bastard just like him.”

Pepper reaches over and places a hand on his arm. Tony gives her a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, patting her hand and allowing her to intertwine their fingers for a moment before he pulls his hand away and nods at her somewhat awkwardly. He realises that Clint has stopped laughing in the kitchen, and that Sam is probably staring at them in horror, so Tony heads towards the elevator without another word. He needs to get to his penthouse and think for a while, and he tries desperately not to think of the remaining alcohol in the cupboard.

Half an hour later sees Tony finishing his third beer, which is almost his record time, and staring at the photos and documents of his father. Tony holds a beer in one hand and a lighter in the other, which he continues to flick on and off to pass the time. He thinks of all of the years he spent trying to get Howard to love him and appreciate him, but he was never good enough. He was never good enough because he wasn’t the great Steve Rogers, the guy who Tony swears hands-down that Howard had a crush on despite being married. Tony’s grades were never good enough even though he was always at the top of his class, his inventions were never good enough even though he got handed at least half of his father’s workload and then took on the whole lot once he died. His father could go on for hours about all of the ways that Tony was a disappointment. Apparently, now that his father isn’t around to do it anymore, Tony’s mind has taken up the habit instead.

Right now, Tony doesn’t feel anything. He just feels numb and alone with only his alcohol and depressing memories as company. Tony gathers up the pictures and papers and brings them, along with his beer and lighter, out onto the landing pad. There’s hardly any breeze at this time in the evening, so Tony is able to set the papers and photographs onto the ground without them blowing away. He stares at the photo of his father lying atop everything else and crouches down next to the pile, continuing to stare at the photo even as he ignites the lighter and sets it all on fire. Tony discovers that watching his father’s smirking face melt away to nothing is rather soothing.

Tony remains on the landing pad for hours with his feet dangling over the edge, watching the sky fade until the bright pinks and purples and oranges have turned into an inky black sky. It’s times like this that Tony hates living in the middle of Manhattan because the city lights cause the stars and constellations to disappear, and he contemplates purchasing a small house somewhere far away in the countryside to escape to on days like this. The New York skyline doesn’t amaze him anymore.

Tony’s suit jacket lay folded up beside him, along with his tie, and his shirt sleeves have been rolled up so he can feel the light breeze on his skin. With a sigh, Tony kicks his legs out and looks down at the streets below him. He’s tempted. Oh, so very tempted, but his promise to Bruce is still fresh in his mind and Tony doesn’t want to disappoint Bruce more than he already has. It doesn’t stop him from thinking about it, though. A noise comes from the living room and he looks back over his shoulder in alarm to see Clint jumping down from the vent, the panel laying discarded on the floor. Once he spots Tony outside a smile lifts his lips, but it isn’t a particularly happy one.

“Hey,” says the archer softly. He stands in the doorway until Tony pats the spot beside him, signalling for Clint to sit down, which he does. Their shoulders brush together slightly as their legs dangle over the edge of the landing pad and Clint sighs beside him, which makes Tony glance over.

“What’s up, bird brain?”

“Just... one of those days, y’know?” he says.

Tony nods in understanding. “I do.”

They fall into a momentary silence, both men content to just sit there. Tony opens his mouth, then shuts it, and then opens it again to ask the vague question, “Y’know earlier? Who else heard?”

Clint looks down at his lap in a rare display of awkwardness, or perhaps discomfort. “Sam and myself – obviously -, Wanda, and Bucky.”

Tony curses silently and nods his head. Clint looks at him momentarily before he looks straight ahead once more, admiring the view. They remain there for another while in peaceful silence and though Tony is as anxious and tense as ever, he thinks he could grow used to peaceful silences amongst team mates rather than always having to talk and joke around. At least this way he doesn’t have to worry about what to say next. He almost forgets that Clint is there until he turns to grin at Tony, his previous sadness seemingly washed away, but Tony knows better. He also knows better than to say anything and allows Clint this distraction from whatever problems he must be having.

“Nat’s coming up in a bit and she said that she’ll bring Bruce so that we can have a pyjama party and play board games!” he exclaims. Tony hesitates, which only makes Clint scowl at him playfully. “C’mon, Tony. You need this, I need this, and even Nat needs this. Bruce probably needs it, too, but I haven’t seen him yet today so I don’t know if his work has been particularly Hulk-inducing, but it probably has.”

“His work is always Hulk-inducing,” replies Tony with a small smile. Clint nods in agreement.

“So, game night with the Fantastic Four?”

“I really, really don’t think you’re allowed to call us that.”

“Don’t be a party pooper, Tony.”

 

**

 

“Tony, stop whining and come on. You haven’t trained properly in who knows how long, and even if you’re not an Avenger anymore you still need to keep fit and prepared for an attack.” Natasha glares at Tony when he opens his mouth to object. “You’re not getting out of this.”

Tony sighs in defeat. “Okay, okay, fine. Just let me go get changed,” he says, already shuffling across the floor to his bedroom. Natasha nods and perches herself on the arm of the couch, arms crossed over her chest. She raises an eyebrow when Tony pauses in annoyance.

“You’re seriously going to wait and escort me there.”

It isn’t a question, Natasha knows, so she remains silent. Tony grumbles under his breath and he shuts his bedroom door firmly behind him to change his clothes. He pulls on a pair of black sweatpants and a deep blue Henley that’s a little too big for him (and probably Steve’s, since it was pushed to the back of his closet) and slips on his comfy trainers, also black but with white trim, and re-emerges from his bedroom. Natasha stands and eyes him approvingly before she leads the way to the elevator, red hair tied up in a high ponytail. She’s wearing a loose grey t-shirt with a sports bra underneath it, black running leggings, and white trainers. Tony envies her ability to look drop-dead gorgeous and deadly in everything she wears.

“It’s your lucky day, Tony,” she says as they enter the elevator. “We’re only going to the gym to do some light exercises. Maybe next week we’ll head down to the training room and get an _actual_ workout done.”

Tony grunts. “Maybe.”

An hour later sees Tony cursing Natasha and the entire universe because of her ‘light exercise’. He lay in the middle of the boxing ring, wheezing and spluttering while Natasha calmly sips at her bottle of water and watches Tony with a small yet genuine smile. She waits for Tony to hoist himself up using the rope of the ring before she sets her bottle down and raises her fists. Tony rolls his eyes yet raises his also and they begin sparring again, Tony managing to block a few punches until a very powerful blow knocks him in the stomach and he stumbles backwards, suddenly feeling woozy.

“You used to be better than this,” she tuts, retreating a few steps to give Tony a moment. He shakes his head slightly to try and rid him of his blurry vision, but it doesn’t do much good. “There was a time where you could pose as a challenge, Tony.”

“Yeah, well,” grumbles Tony. “When you’re over 40, things tend to get a bit more difficult. Not that you’d know.”

“All I want is for you to be able to defend yourself if the suit is inaccessible. Is that too much to ask?” Natasha continues without waiting for a reply. “You could do it before, and you can do it again. With a bit of practice you’ll be back to being a skilled fighter in no time.”

Tony huffs out a breath and steps back into the centre of the ring. He swings quickly and carelessly and Natasha blocks it easily, as he expected her to, and then Tony sweeps her legs from underneath her while she’s focusing on throwing her own punch. Natasha looks up at him with a startling grin and hops up onto her feet in one swift movement, growing more powerful and delivering faster blows the more Tony is able to cause her to stumble or catch her by surprise.

Eventually, Natasha begins using her legs more to kick and swipe and sometimes even using it to block a punch, which Tony finds incredibly intimidating. At one point, Natasha has him in a headlock and, when elbowing her in the gut doesn’t work, Tony hooks his leg around one of hers and sends them both backwards until Natasha’s back hits the ground. She grunts but otherwise shows no signs of being affected by the movement. Tony rolls to the side and then puts as much force as he can muster into the sharp jab that her ribs receive from his elbow and Natasha’s grip finally slackens enough that Tony is able to break free and flip himself around to pin her to the ground. She attempts to break free from his hold but it proves fruitful, and her head falls back against the mat of the ring in defeat.

“Nicely done, Tony,” she praises, and he releases her wrists and falls down onto the mat beside her with a smile.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Tony admits after a few minutes.

Natasha snorts before she can help it, and Tony tilts his head to see her shoulders shaking slightly with mirth. She holds her hand up for a high five and Tony slaps their hands together, allowing her fingers to curl around his own and give his hand a gentle squeeze before she releases it and her hand falls to the floor with a soft thud.

“Thanks, Tasha.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t ask what he’s thanking her for. Natasha seems to know, just like she always does. “Anytime, Tony. You know that.”

They exit the gym shortly after, heading to their own separate floors to shower. Tony turns the temperature up to the last dial and finds comfort in the way the hot spray scalds his skin and seems to warm him up from the inside out. He tips his head back into the water and closes his eyes and he stays like that up until the water turns cold. He switches off the shower, steps out, and wraps a fluffy white towel around his waist while he exits his en-suite.

“Beg your pardon, boss, but Sergeant Barnes is in the elevator and has requested access to your floor,” says FRIDAY.

Tony stiffens instantly. “What does he want?”

There is a pause. “He would like to speak with you about a private matter concerning Captain Rogers.”

“Tell him I don’t want to hear it,” snaps Tony.

“I’m afraid he won’t take no for an answer, boss.”

Tony groans loudly and clenches his hands into fists by his side. “Fine,” he grits out. “Send him up, but keep the cameras on him at all times. I don’t trust him.”

FRIDAY agrees and Tony quickly dresses into a random shirt and jeans and barely gets time to tug a pair of socks onto his feet before he hears the elevator arrive. He emerges from his bedroom warily and sees Barnes already sitting on the couch. Tony feels a sense of déjà vu and his mind supplies him with the blurry image of Bucky sitting on the couch across from Tony, talking about Tony’s _parents_ of all things. This only causes Tony’s hackles to rise further.

“I can hear your damn thoughts from over here, Stark.”

Tony snaps back to attention and glares at the figure sitting on his couch. He takes a few more steps into the room and crosses his arms over his chest, standing tall even though he feels as if he’s about to have three panic attacks at once.

“I’m not apologising to Steve,” he says eventually. “He needed to hear it.”

“I know,” says Bucky, nodding. “No offence or nothin’, but-”

“Saying no offence only means you’re about to offend the fuck out of someone,” Tony interrupts with a raised eyebrow. Bucky shoots him a cold look.

 “I honestly don’t know what Steve sees in ya.”

Tony says nothing for a moment. He plans to say something sarcastic or equally as offensive back, but his insecurities seem to take control over his mouth and, in a quiet voice, he says, “That makes two of us, then.”

Barnes eyes him for a moment, as if trying to decipher if Tony is being genuine or not. “Well, at least we finally agree on somethin’,” he says after a moment. “You’re loud, rude, a sloppy drunk, and seem to think you’re better than everyone else just ‘cause you own a tower. You ain’t all that, Tony Stark, but Stevie seems to think that you are. Why’s that?”

“You want the honest answer?” asks Tony. Bucky nods. “Steve likes to see the good in everyone, even when there’s only the tiniest amount there. He’s got an eye for it, but it blinds him and sometimes makes him see things that aren’t there. Like a trick of the light. I guess I’m just something he doesn’t want to believe is bad.”

Bucky pauses long enough for Tony to grow fidgety. He hates Barnes’ presence on his floor, in his home, and he wants to burn the area of the couch that he’s sitting in just so that everything in his penthouse remains untouched by the man who murdered his parents, his _mother_.

“Y’know, you’re everythin’ I hate about people all put together into one billionaire,” says the unwelcome guest. He shifts on the couch and flexes the fingers of his metal arm, which increases Tony’s oncoming panic attack ten-fold. “But what I’m startin’ to learn about this new life is that no one is how they seem anymore. Somethin’ tells me that you’re one of the finest examples of that there is.”

“Well, you seem to have it all figured out, don’t you?” says Tony before he can stop himself.

Barnes raises his eyebrows. “Hardly,” he grunts. “I don’t understand proper emotions yet. People are too damn complicated and they seem to think a dozen things every second, just like you do. What I came up here to say is maybe that’s why I don’t like you. I mean you hate my fuckin’ guts but you still let me stay here, and Natasha seems to like you much more than she’s willing to admit and I trust her judgement.”

“So?”

“So, that’s an act of kindness I didn’t expect, and you must have some good qualities if you can get a woman like Natasha to like you. I’m sayin’ maybe I’m wrong about you, and that my protectiveness over Steve could be cloudin’ my judgement a bit. Figured you deserve the benefit of the doubt.”

Tony stares at him for a moment, allowing the words to register. “Did I just hear you correctly? Did you just say that _I_ deserve the benefit of the doubt? What sort of sick, twisted conversation are we having right now?” He laughs coldly and shakes his head, scratching at the scars on his left forearm as he does. Tony’s anxiety disappears for a moment and his anger takes over, raging like a storm. “Stick to your first asshole presumption that you had about me, okay? I don’t care whether you like me or not, Barnes, so I’m sorry to say that your visit has been pointless. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than what you think of me.”

Bucky is silent for a moment. He stands abruptly, and it’s enough to make Tony flinch and revert back to his previous anxious state. _Oh god_ , he thinks hysterically. _Why the fuck did I say that? He’s- He’s going to rip it out again. Please, no. He’s going to get the arc reactor. I can’t let him, I can’t. Just give me a quick death. Not- Not this. Anything but this. Please._

“Stark?”

Barnes’ voice is muffled to Tony’s ears. He can barely hear the ex-assassin over the pounding of his heart and the rapid intake of his breaths.

“Get out.”

“Stark, are you-”

“I’m fine!” yells Tony, panicked. He will not have Barnes, of all people, seeing him at his most vulnerable. He downright refuses. “Get out! Leave!”

Barnes finally seems to realise that his presence is unwanted and makes a quick escape, only hesitating in the slightest as he passes Tony. The elevator doors open for him and as soon as they shut again, Tony’s knees buckle from beneath him. Shaking hands come up to cover the glowing reactor protruding from his chest as he heaves and sobs. He can still feel the metal arm wrenching and twisting in a desperate attempt to end Tony’s life, can still feel the immense pain in his chest caused by the pressure placed on it, and can still see Barnes’ features twisted into a snarl as he tries to kill Tony in the worst way possible. It never fails to remind him of Obadiah, and that just ends up setting off a whole new wave of anxiety and anger. Tony isn’t sure when the panic attack subsides and when the sobbing begins because they both feel the same, and isn’t that realisation just a kick in the teeth?

“FRIDAY,” he gasps. “Initiate system lockdown; no one gets in here until I say otherwise, understand?”

FRIDAY pauses long enough for more of Tony’s tears to begin their descent of his face before catching in his goatee. “Of course, boss,” she replies eventually.

After another hour of kneeling at an awkward position on the floor (which cannot be good for his back) and taking in deep, heaving breaths, Tony finally manages to calm down enough that only his hands and bottom lip are trembling. Slowly, the engineer rises with a grimace of discomfort and stumbles towards the couch, falling face first onto it.

“God, I need a vacation,” mutters Tony, muffling his sniffle into a plush cushion.

“Shall I look up relaxing vacation destinations, boss?”

Tony spends far too long considering it before he shakes his head. “No, no, that’s okay. I’m needed here. I can deal with this shit.”

“If I may, boss,” says the AI. Tony grunts noncommittally. “You don't sound very convincing.”

Tony slowly raises his puffy face from where it’s pressed into the pillow and lifts a quizzical eyebrow at the nearest camera in the corner. _Where_ _the hell did my AI learn to become so like JARVIS?_ he thinks with a bitter expression. For whatever reason, Tony is unable to decide whether it’s a good thing or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I saw Civil War last Friday and it's safe to say that it exceeded my expectations. I honestly loved it even though it broke my heart. As you can see in the tags, this fic is not totally compliant with the film and is mainly just a big ball of my inner angst thrown onto unsuspecting characters.
> 
> The song 'Make This Go On Forever' by Snow Patrol really reminds me of this fic and the lyrics make me think of Steve in particular. You should definitely give it a listen - especially if you're having trouble understanding Steve in this fanfic. Plus, it's a beautiful song.
> 
> I'm really not happy with this chapter but I do hope that you enjoyed it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes Tony's well-deserved break and the incident that forces him to return home.

Early one Thursday morning, at 4:22am to be exact, Tony is sitting on the floor of his bedroom and glaring at his closet. His back is leaning against the end of his bed as he sits cross-legged and tries to ignore the duffle bag peeking out from between the crack in the door. Ten minutes later and Tony is jumping up and dragging the bag out into the middle of his bedroom floor. He runs around the room, hastily tossing items of clothing and gadgets and important Stark Industries documents into the bag and he orders FRIDAY to check the building to see if anyone is awake while he zips up the black duffle bag.

“Agent Barton is watching the Teleshopping commercials on his and Agent Romanoff’s floor but it appears that the others are fast asleep, boss.”

 _Perfect._ Tony doesn’t want to chance running into Steve or Bucky or anyone on his way out. He slips a zip-up hoodie on over his pyjama top and an old pair on converse onto his feet and takes the elevator down to the underground car park, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder anxiously. He hasn’t been away from the Tower for quite a while, and even at that it hasn’t been for more than a few days, so Tony feels rather nervous about returning to his Malibu house. He knows, realistically, that things will be fine without him, especially now that Bruce has returned to keep an eye on things, but that doesn’t help make him feel any better.

“FRIDAY,” he says after clearing his throat, glancing at the camera situated in the corner of the elevator. “Call the airport and tell them to get the jet ready. Oh, and let’s leave a message for the team, yeah? You know how they worry.”

“Of course, boss.”

“Great. Just tell them that I’ve gone someplace safe for a while to work in peace, and that they can leave all messages with you because I won’t be answering my phone. On second thought, maybe I should leave a different one for Nat and Bruce... Yeah, I’ll do that. Tell Natasha and Bruce that I’m going to Malibu and that they can expect a video call from me whenever I land.”

“And what of Ms. Potts?”

“I’ll call Pep on the way and tell her myself. She can pass the message on to Rhodey.”

Tony reaches the car park and unlocks his vehicle as soon as the elevator opens. He hops into his silver Audi and tosses the duffel bag onto the passenger seat, and twists the keys in the ignition. The car rumbles to a start and Tony buckles up quickly. As he is peeling out of the car park, rubber tires screeching on the ground, FRIDAY speaks up.

“Have a safe journey, sir,” she says. “Agent Barton is inquiring where you are heading to, boss, shall I give him the message?”

“Yes. Make sure to tell them not to search for me.”

“Noted.”

Tony sits in silence for the next ten minutes of the journey until he finally decides to call Pepper, knowing she won’t be happy at being woken up this early in the morning. The call rings for five long, agonizing seconds until the phone is finally picked up and Pepper grumbles, “You never can call at a reasonable hour, can you?”

“Nope,” answers Tony, smiling to himself. He feels more and more relaxed the further he gets from the Tower. “But it’s why you love me.”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t,” replies Pepper around a yawn. A faint rustling comes from her end of the line and Tony hears a murmured conversation involving Pepper and a tired male’s voice and- oh, yeah, Tony keeps forgetting that Pepper and Happy live together now. The sound of a door clicking shut causes his thoughts to dissipate. “What’s up?”

“I thought it’d be better to tell you myself rather than you hearing it from any of the others.”

“Tony...” She says his name very slowly, and her tone is wary.

“It’s nothing big, Pep. I’m just heading to Malibu for a while, don’t worry,” he says in what he hopes is a casual tone. Truth be told, Tony hasn’t gone back to his Malibu home much since he and Pepper split following the events of Ultron. It never felt right; being back there without her. It made him feel lonelier than ever.

Pepper remains silent for a moment. “Is this because of-”

“No,” replies Tony sharply. He then sighs. “Well, yes, sort of. It’s everything, Pep. I just need some time away from every _one_ and every _thing_. I want to be able to go about everyday life without having to drown myself in alcohol, and I want to be able to live without people constantly throwing me looks of pity and whispering about me behind my back. I’m sick and tired of people thinking I’m helpless, okay? I just- I need this.” Tony heaves a long sigh as he takes a left and enters the airport. “I’m trying to take care of myself for once, so your nagging seems to have finally stuck.”

Pepper laughs wetly on the other line but it comes out sounding like a huff of static. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, well,” says Tony through a small smile. He’s missed bantering like this with Pepper. Most of their conversations revolve around the company now that they’re broken up, and Tony knows that she’s missed this, too.

As Tony drives further into the airport and around the back he sees whom he presumes to be the pilot and some staff standing outside the hangar. The doors to the hangar are already open to reveal his gleaming white private jet sitting there in all its glory. Tony pulls into the private airspace and parks his car with a sigh.

“I have to go, Pep.”

“Have a safe flight, Tony,” she says softly.

He sits in the car for another moment, staring at the steering wheel. “Will you tell Rhodey next time you see him? And tell him to call me whenever he’s released from the hospital, too. Oh, and make sure he doesn’t try and kill He Who Must Not Be Named for some bullshit reason like ‘driving me away’ in the meantime.”

“Anything else, sir? Back massage, maybe?” Pepper asks dryly.

Tony chuckles. “Thanks, Pep. I knew I could count on you.”

“Always,” she says, and then she pauses again. Tony looks in the mirror and sees the pilot boarding the jet. “I know you hate when I go all mother-hen on you, Tony, but listen to me for a second, okay? For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always been going at 100 miles per hour; trying to please everyone, trying to please your father despite everything. I just want to tell you that I’m happy you’re finally going at your own pace, and doing things for yourself rather than for everyone else. If anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”

Tony clears his throat and wipes at his eyes with the backs of his hands. “I’ve gotta go, Pep. Long flight and all. I’ll call you when I land.”

He hangs up before Pepper can say anything else. Tony grabs his bag and phone, exits his car, and locks it over his shoulder as he heads towards the door of the plane. He greets the pilot when he boards and takes his seat quickly. The rest of his 5 hour flight is spent sleeping and going over legal documents and everything that keeps him from thinking too much.

 

**

 

Arriving at his new-and-improved Malibu house is an unusual experience. It is familiar enough that it still resembles the way it used to look before being blown up but different enough that it still feels like a new home, full of possibilities and potential. Tony is glad of the small changes because nothing reminds him too strongly of the past. It’s refreshing.

The house is already stacked full with food and drink and clothes and other niceties. Tony wastes no time in dragging himself up the stairs and into his master bedroom, still in his pyjamas and shoes as he curls up into a ball on top of the sheets. His duffel bag lay forgotten on the floor next to the bed and beneath everything else in the bag lay Tony’s buzzing phone with its screen lit up to display Steve’s Caller ID. Tony ignores the muffled buzzing and drifts off to sleep, too tired from the flight to even think about getting up to turn the device off.

When Tony wakes the next day the sun is shining high in the sky and his phone has seemed to have either stopped buzzing or gone dead. Either way suits him just fine. His first task after showering and changing his clothes is to install the newer updates to FRIDAY’s system in the home, as the AI system isn’t as advanced here as it is in the Tower. Once everything is in working order, FRIDAY’s voice disrupts the silence that has fallen over the workshop.

“Hello, boss,” she says. “The battery of your mobile phone died late yesterday evening while you slept. You have three missed calls from Agent Barton, one from Mr. Wilson, and seventeen from Captain Rogers. You also have two text messages from Agent Romanoff, one from Dr. Banner, and ten from Captain Rogers. Miss Potts has informed Colonel Rhodes of your whereabouts and he has requested that you call him whenever you have a moment. The Scarlet Witch has also requested that I tell you to find peace during your time away and to keep well.”

Tony stares blankly ahead for a moment before blinking rapidly. “Well, good morning to me,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Actually, boss, it’s three in the afternoon.”

“Technicalities,” scoffs Tony, waving a hand around flippantly. He chews on the inside of his lip for a moment in thought. “Tell Nat and Bruce that I’m awake, and that they’re video chatting with me in five minutes whether they like it or not.”

“Will do, sir.”

Five minutes later sees Tony seated on the couch in his living room with a StarkPad in his hands, watching the sky through the large floor to ceiling windows as he waits for Natasha and Bruce to pick up on the other end. Their faces appear a moment later, squished together in order to be seen on camera. Tony thinks he recognizes the background as Bruce’s lab.

“Well, if it isn’t the great Houdini,” Bruce drawls with a small smile. Tony grins at him toothily.

“Hey yourself, Brucie Bear,” he replies good-naturedly, waving. “Hey Tasha.”

“I see you’ve slept,” she comments, eyebrow raised. Tony frowns for a moment until he looks in the little box displaying his own face and sees the state his hair is in, sticking up all over the place and resembling a crazy scientist look. “That’s a good thing, at least.”

Tony shrugs sheepishly. “I was apparently too exhausted to have any nightmares, so...”

Natasha and Bruce share a look. Tony’s brows furrow together as he watches them exchange some sort of silent conversation until Bruce turns to look back at the camera. “Steve hasn’t been dealing with your departure well.”

“No shit,” says Tony with a roll of his eyes. “I thought as much, unless it’s normal for a guy to call me seventeen times and text me ten times. What can I possibly do about it? I’m not coming back any time soon, and I don’t owe him an explanation.”

“Fair enough,” concedes Natasha with a nod. “Do what’s best for you, Tony. We only wanted to see if you would like to give him a message.”

“I think my last message was clear enough, Tasha.” Tony raises his eyebrows at her and the corners of Natasha’s lips lift up in a smile. Bruce glances at her and then at the camera in confusion, clearly not having been told of Tony’s outburst at Steve in the training room.

“I’m missing something, aren’t I?” he says.

Tony smiles at the doctor again. “Why do you say that, Bruce?”

“Oh, I have no idea, honestly,” he replies in a dry tone. Something beeps in the background and Bruce looks over his shoulder with a curse, and then jumps up and goes beyond the reach of the camera, leaving Natasha sitting there with an exasperated look on her face.

“Remind me again why two of my closest friends are lunatic scientists?” she asks Tony, who laughs loudly. Bruce can be heard muttering under his breath from somewhere off-camera, and then there’s the sound of test tubes clinking together and more beeping. Tony and Natasha share a look of bewilderment before deciding that they’re better off not knowing.

“In case it has somehow escaped your attention, Tasha, none of the people you surround yourself with are normal,” says Tony around a chuckle. Natasha feigns shock, clutching at her chest and gasping with wide eyes. “I know, I know! I mean, I heard one of them is a Norse God – crazy, right? And there’s another that can turn into a huge green guy, and a dude that flies around on wings, and a girl that fires energy balls and messes with people’s heads! How insane is that?!”

“ _Shut the front door_!” exclaims Natasha, keeping up the act even though her eyes clearly display the amusement she is trying to hide. Tony laughs again, and he marvels at how easy it comes to him now. Back in the Tower, he could barely even smile without some form of alcohol or drug in his system.

Tony and Nat continue to converse between themselves with occasional interruptions from Bruce while he works, but Natasha cuts her rant about Clint constantly begging for a dog short and her ears perk up. Tony hears Bruce putting his work down and walking slowly across the room until he comes close enough to be seen on camera again. Tony is confused and worried up until he hears the muffled voice of Barnes yelling for Bruce. The door bursts open just as Natasha minimises the video chat on the computer screen - Bucky being unable to see Tony but Tony being able to see and hear everything. He holds his breath and tries not to make a sound.

“James?” asks Natasha suspiciously. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky is clutching his metal arm, Tony notes, and he looks as pale as a ghost. A thin sheen of sweat is covering the ex-assassin’s face and he winces when he tries to move his shoulder to nudge the arm towards Bruce.

“Fix it,” he grits out. Bruce blinks at him.

“Pardon?”

“Fix.It.”

“I’m not that kind of-”

“You’re a doctor, ain’t ya?” snarls Barnes. He barrels on without waiting for a response. “So, fix it. That’s what doctors do.”

Bruce remains as calm as ever on the screen, while Tony fidgets restlessly watching the scene unfold. “Yes, technically I am a doctor, but I’m not that kind of doctor. And even if I was, there would be nothing I could do to help you. You’d need a highly skilled expert in engineering to take a look at it, and even that would be risky.”

Tony sighs as quietly as possible and glares up at the ceiling as if to say _why God, why?_ “Nat, put me on full screen,” he orders. Natasha complies instantly, though she shoots him a wary look before turning back around to look at Bucky, who stares at the camera in surprise.

“The hell’s he-?”

“Barnes, I’m doing you a favour here, so you can be an ass later when your arm doesn’t hurt, alright?” snaps Tony. Surprisingly, Barnes nods and takes a seat on a stool, looking at the screen expectantly.

“Bruce, one of my spare toolboxes is under your desk. Get it.”

The next half hour goes by with Tony ordering both Bruce and Natasha to fetch various tools and supplies and telling them how exactly to fix the colossal fuck up in Bucky’s metal arm. Tony spots the problem instantly once they wheel Barnes closer to the camera, and he cannot help but whistle lowly.

“Jesus, that must hurt,” murmurs Tony, staring at it as best he can through the screen. There is what seems to be a rather large gear tangled up in the wiring connected to Barnes’ nervous system, effectively stopping any movement of the arm and causing a hell of a lot of pain. It’s no wonder Barnes looks like he’s about to pass out any minute now.

“Y’think?” Barnes growls, eyes screwed shut. Tony ignores him and continues to direct Bruce and Natasha through the mess of jumbled wires, untangling them on the way, and instructs them on how exactly to remove the gear without causing Barnes any further pain. Tony holds his breath for the minutes it takes to remove the gear, but once Bruce removes it with a triumphant noise Tony breathes a heavy sigh of relief and slumps back against the sofa.

“I guess one thing ya don’t exaggerate ‘bout is your intelligence,” Bucky breathes. “Thanks.”

Tony blinks at him in surprise and then shrugs self-deprecatingly. “It’s nothing; I would have done it for anyone.”

“It’s somethin’ to me,” argues Barnes, glaring at the camera. “So shut up and accept the compliment.”

“However backhanded it may be,” mutters Tony, which earns him an even colder glare. “But you’re welcome, Barnes.”

“You _can_ call me Bucky, y’know,” Barnes states, eyebrows raised. “If ya like. It’s my name, after all.”

Tony shakes his head. “Technically, no, it’s not, and I’m not calling you that, either. We’re not friends, and I’m not-” Tony cuts himself off but Barnes seems to understand what he was about to say anyway.

“Steve,” he concludes, to which Tony nods. Barnes watching him for a moment through the computer screen and Tony stares back, unwilling to shy away from the ex-assassin’s piercing gaze. “I ain’t gonna tell him ‘bout this, just so ya know. Figured it ain’t my place.”

“How big of you.”

“Tony, play nice,” warns Natasha from where she is leaning against a table at the far side of the lab next to Bruce. Tony salutes her mockingly.

“Well, you know how tiring travelling can be, so I’m gonna go nap,” says the engineer with an awkward cough. Bruce and Natasha smirk knowingly while Bucky continues to eye his projection on the screen.

“Jetlag is the worst,” says Bruce solemnly. Bucky glances at the doctor and then back at Tony. "But you're lucky it's only three hours and not twenty four."

“ _Jetlag_?” he echoes suspiciously. “How far away did you actually go, Stark?”

Tony swallows around a lump in his throat. “Far enough,” he says, and ends the call.

 

**

 

“ _Several people have reportedly been killed following an explosion at_ -”

Tony shuts off the TV using his Stark Pad as he walks around his kitchen aimlessly, typing rapidly and scanning over plans for future energy devices as he goes around in slow circles. The microwave continues to hum lowly in the background as it heats up some leftover pizza he ordered the night before. A smile appears on Tony's lips as he remembers the expression on the teenager’s face when Tony opened the door to accept the pizza, and how the kid’s face only grew more hilariously shocked when Tony handed him an extremely generous tip before closing the door. _Don’t say I never do anything out of the kindness of my heart, America_. Tony has been living and working in his Malibu home for a little over a month now, and it’s been working rather well for him. He texts Nat and Bruce regularly and they fill him in on the happenings in the Tower and about all of the funny things that Tony has missed, most revolving around Clint or Sam. Rhodey calls him twice a week without fail and Tony listens to his best friend rant about his recovery and hospital visits and “ _the goddamn wheelchair, Tony, I swear to God it’s more of a pain in my ass than you are_ ” while he works. He and Pepper e-mail occasionally, mostly about work and the company, but there are some e-mails where Pepper will have included a little _P.S. Don’t forget to take care of yourself!_ that never fails to make Tony snort. Tony also finds himself chatting to Peter Parker quite often nowadays, even if the kid overuses emojis and abbreviates every word possible. Tony has even tried to keep on top of his drinking and he only drinks two low percent beers per day now. All in all, Tony finds his life is finally going the way he wants it to... until, of course, it all comes to a screeching halt.

 “Excuse me, boss,” says FRIDAY as the microwave dings to signal that his food is ready.

“Yep?” asks Tony aloud, setting his StarkPad down on the counter and following the delicious pizza smell towards the microwave.

“Ms. Potts is trying to reach you but is unable to as your mobile phone is currently inactive. Shall I-”

“Put her through,” says Tony instantly.

A beat of silence follows.

“Tony?!” Comes Pepper’s voice. _The signal wherever she is must be terrible_ , Tony thinks as he listens to it crackle. He thinks he can hear sirens and lots of yelling in the background and his chest tightens with worry. Tony swallows thickly and ignores the way that his body stiffens, palms beginning to sweat as his hands clench into fists.

“Pep, what’s going on? Where are you?”

“I- We were in a restaurant, Happy and I, and it- it just _blew up_. Happy’s in a bad way, they’re about to take him away in an ambulance and I’m going with him, but I had to call and tell you.” Pepper’s voice is frantic and full of worry, and she sounds like she’s trying very hard not to cry. What she says next leaves Tony feeling vulnerable and scared and downright _furious_. “I think it was meant for us, Tony,” she whispers.

Tony springs into action immediately. He runs and grabs his MIT sweatshirt off of the armchair in the living room and pulls it on over his head to cover his permanently grease-stained tank top. “Which hospital?” he demands.

“Mount Sinai Hospital.”

“I’ll be there as quick as I can, Pep,” he promises, hurrying from the living room and up the stairs to reach his bedroom. He can hear the muffled voices of the paramedics on the other end of the line as he quickly throws everything into his duffel bag and shoves his keys into the pocket of his jeans. “Don’t worry, okay? We’ll figure this out when I get there. Do you need anything?”

Pepper gasps softly and sniffles, and Tony’s heart aches as he swings the strap of the bag over his shoulder and jogs back down the stairs. “No, no, I’m okay. Just hurry, Tony, please. I have to go now, but I’ll see you later.”

The line goes dead. Tony releases a long breath and runs a shaking hand over his face. “FRIDAY, get the jet ready. I’m going back to Manhattan,” he orders, voice wavering as he turns off the lights before exiting the home and locking the front door. From that moment on is a blur to Tony. He doesn’t remember getting into the expensive rental car and speeding the entire way to the airport hangar, nor does he remember how many red lights he runs past in his anxious state, nor does he remember the 5 hour flight back to Manhattan. The moment the jet touches down back home, Tony is hurrying to unlock his Audi and speeds away from the airport and down the busy streets to reach the hospital.

Pepper is pacing up and down the sterile corridor of the hospital in bare feet when he sees her for the first time in months. Her clothes are torn and scorched and her hair is a tangled mess and her broken heels have been abandoned on the floor. Tony runs towards her and engulfs her in a hug, and continues to hold Pepper while she breaks down and keeps a tight grip around Tony’s neck as she sobs into his shoulder.

Eventually, she pulls away with mascara smeared around her eyes but otherwise seems perfect. Tony, though not in love with Pepper anymore, still thinks she looks beautiful. He rubs her arms comfortingly and steers her towards a rather uncomfortable chair pushed against the wall with little resistance.

“How is he?” he mutters softly. Pepper lifts her shoulders and then drops them in a graceless shrug. She looks exhausted and possibly traumatised, and all he wants to do is bundle her up in warm blankets and protect both her and Happy from all of the bad things in the world.

“I’m not sure,” she replies, voice equally as soft. “They took him into surgery straight away, and said something about a possible punctured lung and internal bleeding. I’ve been here since then. I’m glad you came, Tony.”

Tony wraps an arm around her shaking shoulders and squeezes lightly. “Of course I came,” he says. “You and Happy... you’re family, Pep. I’d do anything for either of you. Same with Rhodey, same with-” Tony cuts himself off abruptly, unable to finish that sentence.

“Steve,” Pepper fills in, resting a reassuring hand on his knee.

“Yeah.” Tony gives a jerky nod and swallows around the lump in his throat. “Yeah, same with Steve.”

Pepper begins falling asleep after another half hour, and Tony gives her his old grey MIT sweatshirt so that she can keep warm and wear something that isn’t torn and scorched. Tony retraces his steps to the reception area and heads outside to get some fresh air. He sits himself down on one of the wooden benches in front of the hospital and, ignoring the night chill, decides to call Rhodey on his recharged phone.

“Hey, Tones,” says the man around a yawn after the fourth ring. “What’s up?”

“Hey, honey bear,” murmurs Tony. “Sorry for waking you.”

Rhodey is silent for a single, agonising second. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

Tony releases a cold chuckle. “Happy’s in the hospital. There was an explosion and he and Pepper were involved. I flew back to be with her at the hospital. She- She thinks they were targeted.” More silence follows and Tony sighs. “I know it’s a lot to ask but-”

“I’m already getting dressed,” Rhodey cuts in abruptly. Tony can’t help but smile and has to wipe under his eyes to catch the few tears that dared to fall. “You can explain it to me once I get there, okay? Try not to beat yourself up over it, Tony.”

“Thanks, Colonel.” Tony winces at how his voice cracks, but Rhodey doesn’t comment on it and thus Tony adds it to the ever-growing list dubbed ‘Reasons to Love and Appreciate James Rhodes’.

“I’ll be there soon, Tones, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

The line goes dead and Tony runs a hand through his hair. His arms are covered with goosebumps so he sighs and heads back inside the hospital and returns to Pepper, who is still asleep and bundled up in Tony’s sweater just like she was when he left her. Tony sighs and wishes, not for the first time, that he had some alcohol with him.

However many hours later, a doctor finally turns the corner and heads straight for Tony and Pepper, who Tony has to shake awake gently. She peels her eyes open and removes her head from Tony’s shoulder, blinking blearily for a moment. She sees the doctor and stands, pulling Tony up with her.

“You’re here for Harold Hogan?” asks the doctor. Pepper and Tony nod. “Mr. Hogan is currently stable, though he lost a lot of blood. A large shard of glass is what caused the internal bleeding, as it punctured a rather large hole in his left lung, but all in all the surgery was a success. Mr. Hogan will remain in the Critical Care Unit for a few days until we are certain that he is stable enough to be moved.”

Pepper breathes a large sigh of relief and her shoulders slump the tiniest amount. Tony squeezes her hand gently and she squeezes back with a small smile.

“Can we see him?” she asks.

The doctor seems to think something over in his mind before he nods his head slowly. He eyes Pepper and Tony’s interlocked fingers before he motions for them both to follow him. He leads them down various corridors and up a set of stairs until they stop outside hospital room number 182. The doctor opens the door and steps aside to allow Tony and Pepper to enter the room first. The blinds are drawn on the door and windows so that people on the outside are unable to look in, and the bedside lamp is the only source of light in the room. Tony hears Pepper gasp faintly as the doctor shuts the door to give them privacy, and she sits in the chair at Happy’s bedside to grab his hand and brush her lips across his knuckles.

Tony remains by the door staring at his close friend laying in the hospital bed, transfixed. The lamp seems to showcase the worst of Happy’s injuries; the gashes covering his face and neck, the singed clumps of hair, the burn marks littering his arms and presumably other areas covered by the hospital gown and sheets. Pepper rests her cheek against Happy’s limp hand and turns her gaze upon Tony, looking exhausted and worn yet still prepared to knock some heads together if she must.

“Don’t you dare even think about blaming yourself, Tony,” she says. She glares at him pointedly for another moment until she returns to gazing at Happy, murmuring softly, “Happy wouldn’t like it, and neither do I.”

Tony flinches like he’s been slapped. “Sorry, Pep. I guess I just don’t really know what else to do.”

“I know, Tony. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's yet another chapter that I'm not particularly happy with but nevertheless I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Editing this chapter was a bitch because I only decided today that I didn't like the original and wanted to change it all, which resulted in me busting my ass off trying to complete it in temperatures too hot for Ireland. Seriously, I am not made to handle the heat. 
> 
> I adore reading everyone's comments and hearing your feedback so, please, keep it coming. I am also open to suggestions if anyone has a scenario they think would go well in this fic or that they would like to see.
> 
> (Real Talk: Can Tony ever catch a break? The answer seems to always be no.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Includes a fuck-ton of angst and a motivational speech from Bruce and Natasha.

Rhodey shows up the next morning in his wheelchair, takes one look at Tony, and promptly rolls over his best friend’s foot. Tony wakes with a startled yelp, which amuses Pepper and coaxes a smile out of her. She releases Happy’s hand to walk around the bed and hugs the Colonel tightly. He hugs her back with a warm smile.

“Nice to see you again, James,” she greets him.

“You too, Pepper,” he says. Rhodey turns to look at Tony and raises his eyebrows at him. “You look like shit. C’mon, you’re coming back to the Tower with me so you can shower and get something to eat. Pepper, you need us to get you anything?”

“No, thank you,” she replies, shaking her head so that her ponytail flicks from side to side. “The doctors have some tests to do later which should take a while, so I’ll be heading home then.”

“Do I have any say in this?” Tony whines as Rhodey tugs him towards the door.

 “No,” his friends say in unison just as the door shuts.

Tony walks down the corridors alongside Rhodey, ignoring the pang of guilt in his chest every time he catches sight of his best friend in the wheelchair. _Just another reason that you're a terrible person,_ he thinks. _Can't even protect your own best friend._ The pain in his chest increases at that. They stop in front of the elevator and Tony presses the button for the ground floor, feeling jittery and anxious for no apparent reason. Rhodey eyes him suspiciously.

“We’re going to have to tell them, you know,” says Rhodey, pushing himself forward as the elevator doors open. He swivels himself around as Tony steps in after him and the doors close again. Tony sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“ _If_ we’re right,” says Tony pointedly. Rhodey snorts.

“When aren’t we when it comes to shit like this?”

Tony chuckles slightly and leans against the elevator wall, watching as it descends level after level until it reaches the ground floor and the doors open again. Rhodey goes ahead of him, wheeling past people and leaving a path for Tony to follow, which he does right up until they reach the front doors to the hospital and they both curse.

“Well,” says Tony as dozens and dozens of bright flashes begin blinding him now that he doesn’t have a pair of sunglasses to slip on. “It appears that we’ve been found.”

“Tony, I don’t think I can get past all of those people by myself,” says Rhodey, sounding rather uncertain. Tony steps up behind him and grabs the handles of the wheelchair, pushing forward as the excited yells from the reporters outside grow louder and louder with each step.

“I’ve got your back, honey bear. Just keep your head down.”

“I’ve done this before, you know.”

“Never in a wheelchair, though.” At that, Tony pushes the door open and he and Rhodey are instantly bombarded by flashing lights, lots of snapping sounds, and dozens of questions roared into their ears. Tony keeps a careful poker face on and focuses on getting Rhodey to his car safely.

“ _Mr. Stark, can you tell us about the condition of Mr. Hogan?! How is he?!_ ”

“ _Was the bombing an act of terrorism?!_ ”

“ _Who is to blame for this attack?!_ ”

“ _What is the Avengers’ next course of action?!_ ”

“ _Mr. Stark, have you been in hiding?!_ ”

Tony continues pushing past the throng of reporters until he finally reaches his Audi, which isn’t totally ideal for a man in a wheelchair but they’ll make do. He unlocks the doors and opens it for Rhodey, who has just enough strength gained in his legs to be able to hoist himself into the passenger seat and shut the door. Tony manages to fold the wheelchair up with little struggle and tosses it into the trunk before hopping into the driver’s seat and peeling away from the hospital. He continues to speed down the lanes, ignoring Rhodey’s remarks about ‘dangerous driving’ and how Tony has a ‘death wish’. He ignores him and continues to drive. Tony doesn’t stop and think until both he and Rhodey are safely inside the tower.

“FRIDAY,” says Tony as he and Rhodey enter his suite. “Tell everyone to come to the penthouse immediately, it’s urgent.”

“Ms. Maximoff has left to visit a graveyard, sir, should I alert her also?”

“No, don’t bother. Just tell the others.”

Rhodey scoffs as he wheels himself into the living room and comes to a stop beside one of the large couches, watching as Tony paces back and forth anxiously. “We came back here so you could clean yourself up and get something to eat, not so you could work yourself to death.”

Tony stops pacing and turns around to glare at Rhodey, sneering. “I think ensuring Pepper and Happy’s safety, as well as everyone else’s, is a bit more important than my personal hygiene, don’t you?”

“We don’t know for sure-”

“Yes, we do!” Tony yells, flinging his arms out. “There’s no way it’s anything else, any _one_ else. You know it as well as I do, Rhodey. It makes sense, and I know that he’s behind this. I’m sure of it. The only thing I’m _not_ sure of is how the hell he keeps popping up.”

Rhodey stares at him long enough for Tony to begin feeling uncomfortable. “Okay, Tones, I believe you. I’m with you in this, 100%, but what are you going to do?”

Before Tony can reply, the air vent is kicked in and Clint drops onto the ground and draws his bow, reading to fire at the first sign of an attack. When all he sees is Tony and Rhodey, he raises an eyebrow and slowly lowers his weapon in confusion.

“Tony? When did you get back?” asks Clint. “Wait - What’s going on? I thought we were under attack,” he says.

“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s just a meeting. There are some things we need to discuss.”

The elevator opens and out rolls Natasha, already in her fighting stance, with Steve, Bucky, and Bruce behind her. Steve has his shield raised, Bucky has his hand on a gun, and Bruce looks ready to Hulk out any minute now. They, too, look confused when there is no sign of a threat. Tony spots something moving out of the corner of his eye, and tilts his head to see Sam swoop down onto the landing pad outside with Redwing soaring behind him. He opens the glass doors and peaks his head inside, managing to look confused even with the goggles covering a good portion of his face.

Tony and Rhodey share a look. “Well, I’m flattered that you’ve all come to my aid so quickly, but I don’t need it. Sit down.”

They continue to stare at Tony, unmoving, until he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs loudly. “ _Now_ would be preferable. Some of us don’t have 70 years to wait.”

“Tony,” Rhodey reprimands him. Tony doesn’t bother apologising.

Bruce is the first to move and he sits on the end of the couch and leans across the armrest to talk to Rhodey, presumably about how he’s doing. Clint and Sam are the next to move and they sit down beside each other on the couch across from Bruce, and Redwing perches on the armrest and preens when Sam strokes his feathers gently. Natasha heads over and sits next to Bruce, as she is apparently also interested in speaking with Rhodey. Bucky seems content with taking a seat on the armchair, and Steve hovers awkwardly until he decides to just remain standing.

“So, what’s this meeting about?” asks Sam, removing the goggles from his face and turning to look at Tony. “I’m assuming it’s important, if you dragged your ass back from wherever the hell you were just to be here.”

“No offence, Sam, but I would rather be anywhere other than here right now,” grunts Tony, scrubbing a calloused hand over his face and rubbing at his temples for a moment in a vain attempt to rid himself of this God-awful headache. “Happy and Pepper were attacked last night. Big explosion in _Julio’s_ ring any bells? Or do none of you watch the news?”

A long silence follows, which is enough of an answer for Tony.

“How are they?” asks Clint. Tony flinches, and he’s absolutely certain that everyone catches it. He ignores the pity in their eyes and absentmindedly scratches at the scars on his arms before stuffing is hands deep into his pockets.

“Lucky to be alive.”

Rhodey sighs and shakes his head. “Luckily, Pepper wasn’t hurt, she’s just shaken up. Happy... isn’t doing as good, but the doctors are hopeful,” he assures them all and ignores Tony’s scoff. Natasha catches his eye and subtly raises an eyebrow, to which he shrugs and attempts to convey _I tried but he wasn’t having it_ with his eyes. Natasha, bless her soul, seems to understand exactly what Rhodey is trying to tell her and gives a curt nod.

“Who targeted them?” asks Bucky from the corner. His face is a hard mask when Tony glances at him. “Was it Hydra? AIM?”

“No, it wasn’t any of those clowns. It was Spymaster,” says Tony, sounding exasperated.

“You know this for sure?” asks Natasha, face unreadable.

“Yes,” says Tony at the same time that Rhodey says “No” and Tony glares at him, which makes the Colonel huff in indignation.

“Don’t act like I’m not agreeing with you, Tones, but we don’t know anything for sure. Like it or not, all we’ve got to go on is a theory.”

“I’m not just making this up, Rhodey, I _know_ that he did this! He used Happy as bait to try to kill me, like he’s been trying to do for years! I’ve exhausted every other possibility and this is the only one that works, for Christ’s sake!”

“Maybe you missed something,” Clint suggests. The others, excluding Natasha and Rhodey, nod in agreement. “I mean, it’s possible.”

“I wouldn’t miss something this huge, Barton,” snaps Tony. His eyes travel to Natasha and they widen almost comically as he jerks a finger to point in her direction. “Tasha, you know he’s been trying to kill me for years! Hell, you saved me from his Elite before! You have to believe me!”

“Let’s say that you’re right,” says Bruce slowly, keeping his tone light and casual. “What would you do?”

Tony’s reponse comes faster than anyone expects and it leaves them all a little shocked. “I’m going to kill him.”

“You can’t just kill someone, Tony,” says Steve, speaking up for the first time since entering the room. Tony glares at him coldly, appearing to hate Steve more and more with each word he speaks. A small lump forms in the super soldier’s throat but he continues on. “That’s not going to help anything.”

A small part of Tony’s mind agrees with the Captain and deep down he knows that killing Spymaster isn’t the answer, but then he remembers Happy’s much-needed advice during the emotional shitstorm that was the Sokovia Accords and he ignores the niggling voice in the back of his brain and instead focuses on Happy’s comforting words; ‘ _You, my friend, are the only cape in the bunch that’s both one of us and one of them. Who else can see both sides the way you do?_ ’ This only solidifies Tony’s theory. He will kill Spymaster for Happy, and for Pepper, and for himself. He sees both sides, and chooses the one he thinks will end more positively for him and the people he cares about. He needs to do this. It’s the best option.

“I’m doing this, whether you help me or not. The only way you can stop me is if you kill me, so I welcome those of you who have tried to try again.” Tony looks at Bucky as he says this, and the former assassin stands and marches across the room to grab Tony by the front of the shirt, holding the engineer up by his grip on the flimsy fabric.

“Buck, put him down,” Steve orders, taking a step towards them.

Tony and Bucky glare at each other unwaveringly. The entire room is tense and the others are watching with bated breath to see how things turn out. Bucky’s chest is heaving up and down and Tony’s hands are shaking, but it’s clear that neither man is going to be backing down any time soon.

“Bucky, please,” Steve pleads.

“If you want to kill me so bad you should just do it. I don’t care,” spits Tony. He watches the slight widening of Bucky’s eyes at that admission and feels an odd sense of pride at being able to surprise the man. “I won’t stop you. At least I’ll be with them.”

Tony doesn’t have to explain who he means when he says ‘them’, Bucky catches on pretty quickly. Tony gets slammed into the wall because of that remark, but he honestly expected a lot worse so he takes it with a small grunt.

Steve takes another step towards them, arm outstretched in a cautious gesture. Tony thinks he catches a tear on his cheek, but he isn’t so sure because of the way his vision goes blurry when he’s slammed into the wall again.

“Buck, stop it!” yells Steve. Barnes ceases slamming Tony against the wall, but he keeps an iron tight grip on Tony’s shirt. His forearm is pressed against Tony’s throat when Steve comes up behind Bucky, and Tony can’t help but start laughing at the cruel joke that life has apparently decided to play on him.

“Seem familiar, Cap?” Tony chokes out. Steve’s eyes widen and he tears his gaze away quickly. Bucky squints in confusion and increases the pressure of his arm on Tony’s windpipe.

Steve places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and murmurs, “ _Please_ , Bucky, I still love him.”

In the next second Bucky’s hands are gone and Tony falls to the floor, gasping and coughing. He resists the hand held out to him by Bruce and stands up himself on shaky legs, once again scratching at his arms hard enough that his nails begin to leave marks. Steve recalls Tony mentioning something about scratching himself until he bleeds and he swallows thickly.

“At least you’ll be with who?” asks Natasha after a very long silence. Her gaze is directed at Tony and he knows that she understands exactly what he meant but she wants him to explain anyway. He shrugs and then winces slightly when the action causes his shoulder to erupt with pain.

“My parents,” he responds, voice sounding scratchy and raw.

“And why-”

“I killed them,” says Bucky. Natasha’s mouth remains a thin line. Steve doesn’t seem nearly as shocked as everyone else, which confirms Tony’s suspicions that he knew all along and never told him, and he takes a step back in an attempt to conceal his hurt. Clint actually chokes on his own saliva in his shock.

“You – What?” splutters Sam. “Why were we not told about this?”

“Hell,” says Rhodey angrily. “Why the fuck didn’t I know about this, Tones?”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Tony responds hoarsely. “It's not something I just go around talking about. My dad was an asshole and my mom, well, she’s no one’s business. It’s just another sob story, and I don’t want anyone’s pity. Plus, I figured Barnes deserves a fresh start and all that other bullshit.”

The man in question stares at Tony like he has two heads which, okay, rude. “You have got some serious issues, Stark.”

“As if I don’t know that,” Tony scoffs. “But we’re here to talk about Spymaster, and since you’ve all made your opinions abundantly clear I only have one thing left to say; don’t get in my way. You can all leave now.”

Tony brushes past everyone and walks into the kitchen. He heads straight for the cupboard which contains his alcohol and grabs the first bottle he sees, which happens to be a bottle of rather expensive brandy. He doesn’t bother to grab a glass and instead uncorks the bottle and takes a long gulp from it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand once he’s done. The amber liquid manages to dull some of the aches and pains he feels, courtesy of Bucky Barnes, and he sighs with relief.

Upon walking back into the living room, he discovers that no one has left and rolls his eyes. Rhodey glares hatefully at the bottle gripped in Tony’s hand.

“Really, Tony? Don’t you have to go back to the hospital later?” he nags, arms crossed over his chest. Tony takes another drink and doesn’t respond.

“So, are we all just going to ignore what just happened?” asks Sam incredulously.

“What do you expect us to do? Give Bucky shit for something he did in 1991, a time where he didn’t have control over himself? Kick him out of the Tower?” It’s the first time anyone has heard Steve speak to Sam so coldly before, and Sam seems to shrink in on himself. Redwing nuzzles his beak into Sam’s head in an attempt to comfort him.

“Don’t bite my head off, Steve. I just feel like we should do something.”

Tony takes another gulp from his bottle before nodding once, slowly, in agreement. “Sam’s right. We should do something, but not to Barnes. What about you, Steve? When were you going to tell me that you knew? Or were you ever going to?”

“I didn’t know-” Steve tries, to which Tony cuts him off with a loud scoff.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers,” he threatens. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew the whole fucking time and never told me. You let me believe that everything was _fine_ , and that we could be _happy_ , and then you ripped it all away and left me with nothing!”

Steve hesitates for a moment before releasing a sigh. “Yes, I knew. I’m sorry I never told you, Tony, but I didn’t want to hurt you. You meant too much to me, and I didn’t want to lose you over something so sm-" Steve cuts himself off abruptly, eyes as wide as saucers. He clears his throat and tries again. "I mean, over something like this.”

The room goes quiet enough that, if a pin were to drop, you would hear it loud and clear. Tony clenches his jaw and meets Steve’s eyes with a fiery glare, having caught what Steve was about to say before he backpedalled. “I’m so very sorry that you think my parents’ murder is such a small incident, Steve, but I guess that apology is as false as your own.”

Bruce shifts awkwardly on the couch and makes a move to stand up. “We should probably go,” he says to everyone that isn’t Tony and Steve, and they all agree readily and prepare to make a hasty exit.

“ _No_ ,” Tony grits out. “No. You’re going to stay right there and you’re all going to see what a coward your Captain is. What else haven’t you told me about, Steve, huh? How about that kiss between you and Sharon Carter? Aunt Peggy’s niece, remember her?”

Steve’s jaw drops. “How did you find out about that?”

“Does it matter?!” yells Tony, nearly throwing the bottle at the wall with the force that he flings his arms out. “That’s two things you conveniently forgot to mention to me, but yet again _I’m_ the bad guy when I say I don’t trust you anymore. Did you even care to remember that I loved about Aunt Peg too? I was at the goddamn funeral, Steve, but you were too busy making eyes at a pretty blonde to remember that the man you claim to ‘love’ would be there, too.”

“Leave them out of this, Tony,” growls Steve, eyes narrowing slightly. “What does that have to do with any of this?”

Tony chuckles coldly and takes another drink from the bottle currently falling victim to his iron-tight grip on its neck. “It has everything to do with this! You are a liar, and a coward, and the only reason that I’m still alive is because T’Challa showed up right in the nick of time to stop your friend over there from beating me to death.” Barnes’ hands clench into fists beside Steve but Tony ignores him, too caught up in his rant to stop. “And the funny thing is that I wish he hadn’t shown up, and that Barnes had killed me, because it would have been better than having to live in the same world as someone like you.”

Everyone stares at Tony in shock but Tony only has eyes for Steve (and not in the romantic sense, this time). Emotion seems to roll over Steve’s face like a tidal wave until he breathes in a deep, shaky, breath and exhales slowly, and when his eyes open again the usual bright blue of them has been replaced by a dull, darker shade. The super soldier’s face remains a carefully constructed poker face.

“Now, _get out_.”

No one objects, even if Rhodey looks like he wants to, but Natasha wheels him into the elevator before another argument can erupt. The seven of them look ridiculous squished into the elevator and, had it been any other time, Tony may have laughed but instead he tugs harshly on the strands of his hair and turns his back to the closing doors until he suddenly twists around and hurls the glass bottle at the doors. They shut just before the glass hits them and causes everyone in the elevator, including Natasha, to gasp.

The brandy from the bottle spills all over the floor and Tony watches it for a very long time, itching to touch the glass shards scattered across the floor, but he refrains. Tony wants a noble death, even if he isn’t a very noble man.

 

**

 

“Something needs to be done about him,” says Clint to break the deafening silence amongst the rest of the Avengers, who are now standing awkwardly around the communal floor. They have remained in silence for the better part of an hour, which was long enough for Wanda to return and immediately start to worry about what happened while she was out.

“What the _hell_ do you mean by that, exactly?” asks Rhodey sharply, strong arms crossed over his chest as he stares at the archer. Being in a wheelchair doesn’t stop Rhodey from being his usual intimidating self, it seems.

“I just mean that he needs help,” Clint responds, hands raised in surrender. “Like therapeutic help, counselling, _something_.”

Bruce sighs loud enough to gather the attention of the others, including Steve, who has been pacing back and forth with a frown on his face since they reached the floor. Natasha places a comforting hand on Bruce’s shoulder and looks into his eyes with genuine concern shining in her own.

“Bruce?” she asks softly. “Are you alright?”

Bruce knows that her question has a double meaning – _Are you going to Hulk out?_ He gives her a small, uneasy smile and nods slowly, already regretting what he’s about to say but he knows that the truth which he is about to reveal is long overdue at this point. “I’m fine, but Tony isn’t. I thought I would be enough to help him through this, but I can see now that I was foolish to ever believe that.”

“What are you saying, exactly?” asks Bucky from where he’s leaning against one of the counters in the kitchen. Bruce notes that his near-permanent scowl has taken on a much darker look, or else it’s Bucky’s dark hair hanging over his face that gives off the effect. Either way, it makes Bucky look much more pissed off than usual.

“I’m saying that, for the past few months, Tony has been taking pills for anxiety and depression. Both are severe cases, and now I think that he’s also suffering from Severe PTSD.”

Everyone pauses to take in what Bruce has just told them. Natasha looks down at her shoes, feeling much more upset than she would ever care to admit. Steve looks absolutely heartbroken as he stares at Bruce with his large blue eyes, shimmering with tears. Rhodey is the only one that dares to speak up, and his voice is shaking with anger when he does.

“No,” he denies firmly. “That’s not right. I don’t believe it. Tony would have told me.”

“FRIDAY,” says Bruce quietly as he clicks a button on his new smart watch that Tony made for him. “Can you bring up the footage from, uh, two months ago? The last time I was with Tony in his workshop.”

It takes FRIDAY a moment to respond. “Of course, Dr. Banner.”

A large holographic screen is projected from the watch and the requested footage begins rolling. The video begins from the moment Bruce steps foot inside the workshop and the pained expression on everyone’s faces only grow worse as the footage continues playing. Bruce realises that this could be considered cruel, playing footage of Tony confessing his suicidal thoughts to people who are supposed to be Tony’s closest friends, teammates, and lover, but then he figures that they need to see it. It’s time they stop undermining how serious Tony’s issues are, even if the man himself plays them off.

“Jesus,” says Sam once the footage ends and the holographic screen disappears.

“He’s been hiding it from us the whole time?” asks Wanda quietly, her lips downturned into a frown.

Bruce shakes his head with a sad smile. “No, he hasn’t been hiding it. It was actually quite obvious, but we have all been too busy to notice that there was something more than just heartbreak getting him down. We should have seen it sooner.”

“But he told you,” says Rhodey in an accusatory tone. “He told you, and what did you do about it?”

“I realise now that I’ve made a mistake, and I regret not doing anything more to help,” says Bruce. He runs a hand through his unkempt hair and sighs. “I stumbled upon Tony popping some of his pills, and I have been trying to help him ever since, but clearly it wasn’t enough. That’s why I’m telling you now. He needs help.”

“Not to be rude, but how are we meant to help if he’s practically allergic to talking about his emotions? Oh, and not to mention the fact that he cannot stay in the same room as two of the people here without freaking out. How could we even start to help him?” says Clint with his eyebrows furrowed together and arms crossed over his chest loosely.

“We have to try,” says Natasha, speaking up at last. Her tone is firm and leaves no room for argument. “What type of people - what type of _heroes_ \- are we if we don’t even try? God knows that Tony has tried to help all of us enough times. Clint, you remember when Tony heard that you couldn’t sleep because every time you would close your eyes you felt as if you were back under Loki’s control? What did Tony do?”

“He, uh, he asked JARVIS to tell him whenever I was having a bad dream and-” Clint pauses as he smiles fondly at the memory. “- he would come in with two cups of hot chocolate and keep talking until I fell asleep. He even learned sign language just so I wouldn’t have to go to the effort of having to put my hearing aid back in.”

Natasha nods and barrels on, turning her gaze on Bruce next. “And Bruce, what did Tony do when the two of you hardly knew each other on that SHIELD helicarrier?”

“Tony, well, he stood up for me, which no one else had done before. We were walking to the lab one day when I heard these agents around the corner talking about me. They were saying really nasty things, like how I should be locked up because I’m dangerous, and Tony, well, he wasn’t having any of it. He walked right over and gave them hell for it, and afterwards he didn’t even understand why I thanked him. He kept saying that it’s what every good person would do, and so I guess Tony was the first good person that I ever really met. He was the first person to treat me like I was normal, like I was a friend. He accepted that the other guy was a part of me and just... _moved on_.”

Natasha squeezes his shoulder again comfortingly and she gives him an encouraging smile before turning her gaze upon Sam, Wanda, and Bucky who are standing side-by-side in the kitchen. “Tony barely knew Sam and even fought against him, but that didn’t matter when he found out that the community centre would be demolished and never rebuilt. Tony funded it’s refurnishing, and continues to fund it to this day so that Sam can continue his support groups there because he knows that it’s Sam’s way of coping as well as his way of helping others.” Sam looks away from Natasha’s eyes and twiddles his thumbs awkwardly.

“Wanda, you and Tony have never really gotten along but the second that he found out you didn’t have the money to give your brother the memorial service you thought he deserved, Tony paid for it all. He even created the Pietro Maximoff Foundation to honour him and to help those left homeless or injured or who lost someone as a result of the battle in Sokovia.” Wanda’s eyes grow teary and she swallows around the lump in her throat as Natasha continues forward.

“And you, James. Tony let you stay here, in his home, despite being sent into a fit of anxiety every time he sees you. He allows you to stay here because he knows that you deserve peace, and he knows how much you mean to Steve, and he knows that you have suffered much more than anyone should. Tony even talked us through how to fix your arm despite him being away.”

Bucky holds Natasha’s gaze determinedly but a look of shame appears on his face. Finally, Natasha turns to Steve and sighs heavily at the stricken expression that has taken over his face.

“And lastly, Steve. When you and Tony first met you two really did not like each other but, eventually, the both of you really started to get along. Tony encouraged you to start drawing again, to get your own apartment despite you being here constantly anyway, and he helped you adapt to the future. He would cancel important board meetings and press conferences just to be with you if you were having a bad day, and he would sit and listen to you talk about the past and your guilt over letting James fall and about Peggy, all without hesitation.”

Natasha takes a long enough pause that everyone begins to think that she has finished her rant, but after another drawn out moment she speaks up again, eyes still locked with Steve’s.

“Tony knows better than anyone how it feels to be completely alone despite being surrounded by dozens of people, and he knows how tough it can be to deal with your problems when you think no one cares, and he has helped all of us during our lowest times because he doesn’t want us to feel the same way that he does. If he can help all of us, I think it’s only right that we at least try to help him.”

A long pause ensues before Sam speaks up somewhat anxiously. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Well,” says Natasha, a smile forming on her face. “I’m glad you asked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, another chapter that I'm not happy with! I hope you all enjoy it regardless.
> 
> Can I just say that reading everyone's comments makes my days so much better and brighter. I always smile when reading them because you're all so sweet, and it honestly means a lot that people are actually enjoying what I write. It almost makes me feel bad that this fic is full of angst ... almost.
> 
> I have also created a playlist on Spotify based on this fic and it's under the same name as the title if anyone would like to go and give it a listen. Song recommendations are always welcome.
> 
> (*It has been pointed out to me that some are unable to find the playlist so here it is: [playlist.](https://open.spotify.com/user/brianne_og/playlist/5Bstv4UVElx6cASOj7JDBb)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony straightens some shit out, and Steve pays a visit to the hospital.

Tony’s workshop is on constant lockdown now, and the only time that he leaves its sanctity is to visit Happy in the hospital, usually with Pepper. He fully invests himself in discovering the whereabouts of Spymaster and discovers some interesting things along the way, for example: the last Spymaster, Nathan Lemon, was arrested and severely beaten in jail until he eventually died in Intensive Care. It leaves Tony with absolutely no idea of the identity of the new Spymaster, and there seems to be nothing one the face of the earth that he can dig up that will help his search.

“Boss, may I recommend-”

“No, you may not,” says Tony shortly. A noise of frustration escapes past his lips as yet another search comes up with no new information. In a fit of rage, he sweeps the piles of documents and empty beer bottles onto the floor and tugs harshly at pieces of his hair while a crash sounds around his workshop. “ _Fuck!_ ” he yells, battering his skull with his fists so hard that his vision darkens and goes rather blurry.

After minutes of heaving and trying to calm his shaking hands, Tony sits back down in his swivel stool and returns to his research. He’s not even sure what to search for anymore, but he will continue to try everything under the sun and just hope for some answers. He needs Pepper and Happy to be safe. Aside from Rhodey, they’re the closest thing to family that he’s got. He doesn’t realise that he is biting his lip until he feels something trickle down his chin and he wipes it away with a frown. Upon examination, he discovers that the substance was blood and sucks his lower lip into his mouth in an attempt to stem the slight bleeding.

“Sir, there is some footage that I strongly recommend you view as soon as possible.”

“I already told you that I’m busy, FRIDAY. I don’t have time to watch some stupid video.”

“If I may, sir, you will not find this footage to be a waste of your time.”

Tony sighs loudly and makes a vague gesture for FRIDAY to do her thing and play the damn video already. After hours upon hours of nagging, FRIDAY is finally getting her way and her smugness is evident when the video is displayed in less than a second. Tony rolls his eyes at his AI but leans back in his chair to get a look at this supposedly very important recording. What he sees makes him sick to his stomach, and Tony is honestly very fed up of feeling betrayed by people he trusts.

“Where is he?” asks Tony very quietly, eyes fixed on the figures in the crystal-clear video.

FRIDAY takes a moment to respond. “Surveillance shows that he is in the communal floor kitchen with the other Avengers Initiative members, with the exception of Colonel Rhodes as he has a hospital appointment.”

“No doubt trying to put their miraculous plan into effect,” sneers Tony. He pushes himself up from his stool and, for the first time in however many days, abandons his frantic researching and his workshop to head up to the communal floor.

The elevator doors open but Tony’s arrival seems to not have been heard because the sound of an electric mixer has taken over the entire floor. The engineer storms down the hallway with his hands bunched up into tight fists by his sides, face contorted with anger and hurt and betrayal as he enters the kitchen. Before they notice him, the others seem content and relaxed; Natasha is baking and batting Clint’s hand away every time he tries to dip his fingers into the bowl, Bruce is covered in flour and wearing a blue and yellow floral print apron, and the other four are seated at the breakfast bar and laughing at something on Sam’s phone, which they are all crowded around. For the briefest of moments, Tony’s anger is replaced by hurt as he gets a glimpse of how happy everyone would be if he was out of the picture. Then, he thinks _fuck that this is my Tower_ and his anger is burning brighter than ever before.

Natasha eventually notices him and stops the mixer, throwing him a pleased half-smile from across the room. “Tony, come-”

“You’re a goddamn liar, Bruce Banner.”

Natasha sets the electric mixer down and looks over her shoulder at Bruce, who is looking at Tony in surprise and dusting his hands off on his apron.

“Tony? What are you talking about? Has something happened?” asks the doctor. He takes a step forward, concerned for his friend, and Tony continues to stare at him in disbelief.

“You’re a liar,” Tony repeats. “You told me that you wouldn’t say anything and yet you went and did exactly that. I trusted you, and you betrayed me.”

Bruce’s eyes widen as he finally realises what Tony is talking about. He seems torn between denying that he said anything and making an excuse for himself. After a few seconds, Bruce appears to decide on the latter. “I was trying to be there for you. You need help and you were never going to get it yourself.”

“You don’t know shit about what I need,” Tony snarls. “What I need is for people to stop going behind my back because they think they know what’s best for me. None of you get a say in how I handle my own problems. None of you get to say if and when I need help. You weren’t trying to be there for me, you were trying to fix me, but I can fix myself just fine if you would all _let me try_.”

“We were just trying to look out for you, man,” murmurs Sam, frowning slightly.

Tony is so angry that he feels as if he’s boiling over. “Don’t bother. Has it occurred to any of you that you’re not even giving me a chance to try and figure my own shit out? You’re constantly smothering me! If it’s not Captain Do-Gooder over there giving me puppy eyes, it’s Barnes glaring at me hard enough that I’m sure he’s trying to turn me to dust, or it’s someone shadowing me just to make sure that I don’t crack out another bottle or OD with a bunch of pills.” Tony clenches his jaw as he catches Barnes and Steve sharing a look. “Anyone who keeps this shit up from now on will no longer be welcome in this Tower. No exceptions.”

“You- Are you kicking us out?” asks Clint incredulously.

“Not unless you do anything that I just told you not to do, which I’m sure one of you will because apparently that’s a common thing for you guys. I’m sick and tired of being patronized. You fuck up and I will be more than happy to kick you out.”

Everyone remains silent and Tony takes that as a sign that the conversation is over. He turns around without another word and exits the floor, feeling strangely giddy and proud of himself for the first time in months. He returns to his workshop in a much better mood than he was in when he left it minutes before.

 

**

 

A pair of strong arms wraps around Steve’s waist as tender kisses are pressed along the expanse of one of his broad shoulders, skin bared to the room because the neck of his sweater slipped after getting out of bed that morning. Steve hums in content and presses back against the warm body pressed against his back. The calloused hands resting on his sharp hipbones give a little squeeze and Steve can feel the smaller man resting his forehead against the middle of Steve’s back; right between his shoulder blades.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” asks Tony in a sleep-rough tone that makes Steve’s stomach flip. He smiles at the reflection in the bathroom mirror, where he can just about catch sight of Tony’s shirtless upper half and a tuft of his unruly bedhead.

Steve places his hands atop Tony’s and links their fingers together. “I have a meeting with Miss Hill, remember?”

Tony grunts noncommittally and pulls Steve back a step so that they’re really pressed together and Tony’s face is now more or less in his armpit, meeting Steve’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror from where he can see out from under Steve’s sweater-clad arm.

“Come back to bed with me.”

“You know she’ll have my balls if I blow her off, Tony.”

“You’ll live.”

Steve cannot help but smile at him mischievously. “Will you?”

“Steven Grant Rogers!” exclaims Tony with an over-exaggerated gasp. “What have I done to you? You have turned into a filthy, filthy old man.”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

“Your sarcasm wounds me. I’m in love with a little shit, someone help.”

Steve rolls his eyes in fond exasperation and turns around to face his boyfriend, who looks upset at being moved until he resettles his chin against Steve’s sternum and smiles up at him. Their hands remain linked and Steve rubs the pad of his thumb over Tony’s knuckles lightly. He’s content to just stand there and stare down into Tony’s eyes forever. Tony is, Steve realises belatedly, wearing his rather large grey Led Zeppelin t-shirt and his black boxer shorts and looks so good that Steve has trouble remembering how to breathe. Even after months of dating, he’s still not quite sure how he managed to get so lucky with the engineer.

“Bed,” Tony repeats, softer this time, as if he knows what Steve is thinking and thinks the exact same thing himself. Steve finally agrees and allows himself to be lead out of the bathroom and back into bed by Tony’s firm grip on his hand, unwilling to let go even for a second.

They settle down again, facing the floor-to-ceiling bedroom windows on the left side of Tony’s bedroom to look out and watch the sunrise as they lay wrapped up in each other. Steve wraps himself tighter around Tony as the smaller man begins to drift off slowly, eyes closing slowly before they flutter back open in a daze.

Steve cannot keep the smile out of his voice when he leans in close to Tony’s ear and murmurs, “I love you, Tony Stark.”

“I know,” mumbles Tony tiredly. Then, he yawns and turns around to press his face into Steve’s neck, eyes closed as he falls back to sleep.

Steve wakes up with a lazy smile on his face, turning over onto his side to wrap his arms around his sleeping boyfriend only to find the space empty. He frowns and, with his eyes still closed, gropes around the cool bedding before he finally gives in and peels his eyes open. Worry sets in as Steve sits up in his bed, wondering where Tony could possibly be gone, until reality bites him in the ass. Hard. The super soldier sighs softly and lay back down in his bed. _Stupid realistic dreams_ , he thinks grumpily. Despite their rather long time together, Tony and Steve hardly ever had the chance at a morning so domestic. Sure, they woke up together plenty, but they were always rushing out the door with chaste kisses and coffee-to-go. Whenever they _did_ have the morning to themselves, they usually always spent it catching up on precious sleep or lazy morning handjobs. A part of Steve always wished for a quieter, domestic life with Tony so that they could enjoy mornings in bed together and actually eat home-cooked meals instead of a constant string of take-out but, hey, they were still happy so that’s all Steve cared about.

With a loud groan, Steve flings his muscled arms over his face and closes his eyes tightly; willing himself back to sleep. He shouldn’t be thinking like this anymore, not after Tony making his view on the subject _very_ clear, but he can’t help it. Steve never likes to consider himself a selfish man but, for Tony’s love, he think that he’s definitely the most selfish of them all. Steve thinks back to their failed plan from this morning and grunts softly. No one felt like eating after Tony left. It’s obvious that the threat to kick them out was as genuine as they come, and it rattled the team more than any one of them would care to admit. Steve, having had enough tense silences to last a lifetime, practically ran out of the kitchen after ten minutes of uncomfortable hovering. He’s just surprised that Bucky hasn’t come after him yet, but also kind of grateful.

“FRIDAY,” he says, voice rough from sleep. “Can I see the data that you have collected from the _Julio’s_ bombing, please?”

“Of course, Captain Rogers,” responds the AI. Seconds later, Steve’s phone lights up and he grabs it off of the bedside locker and opens the domuments that have been sent. After doing a quick scan of them, Steve frowns and sits up so that his back is against the headboard. “It doesn’t say what type of explosive was used. Any leads on that?”

“Local law enforcements have labelled it as a time-bomb and nothing more, but after further investigation I have discovered that the explosive used was in fact an Improvised Explosive Device – otherwise known as an IED, sir.”

“Could it have been made by Spymaster? Does he have a history of using or working with explosives?”

“The history of Spymaster is unknown, Captain Rogers, though it is very likely that he has had firsthand experience with explosives. The fact that it was homemade matters very little now as hardly any of it is left and so far no fingerprints or other samples of DNA have been detected, not that anyone expected there to be.”

Steve curses and runs a hand over his face. “No one saw anything suspicious?”

“I’m afraid not, sir, but the local law enforcement has released a statement to the press informing them that the explosive was placed inside a briefcase.”

“Has Tony spoken to Pepper or Happy about it?” asks Steve. He flings the bed sheets off of his lower half and stands to get dressed into his earlier clothes.

FRIDAY pauses. “No, Captain, he has not.”

“Well then, I will.”

 

**

 

 

It’s an hour later, and Steve is feeling much more put-out than he thought he would. Now, he knew not to expect Pepper to greet him with the same warm smile she used to when he and Tony were dating, but this reaction is more than he ever expected from a woman usually so calm and professional. It’s Happy who eventually calms her down, and that’s after he asks Steve to leave the room and wait in the hospital corridor. He is eventually granted access to the room again, though Pepper is still clearly displeased with his presence.

“What can we do for you, Steve?” asks Happy with an awkward smile, hoping to diffuse the awkward tension in the room.

“I was hoping to speak with you both about the incident, if that’s okay.”

Pepper opens her mouth to object, yet another look of rage flashing across her features, until Happy manages to speak before her. “Sure. We’ll do anything to help, won’t we, honey?”

Pepper glares at her partner but remains silent. Steve takes that as enough of an encouragement to go on.

“Did either of you happen to see someone inside the restaurant carrying a briefcase? Or even holding one?” he asks, shuffling awkwardly on his feet. Happy and Pepper share a look and frown at each other.

“I don’t think so. How ‘bout you, Pep?”

Pepper shakes her head. “No, I don’t remember seeing any briefcase...” She trails off and Steve sighs, feeling as if he has reached a dead end until Pepper speaks up again. “But there was a man that practically ran into us while we were entering the restaurant and he was leaving. I thought nothing of it but-”

Steve’s eyes widen and he takes an eager step forward. “Sorry, but what did this man look like? Did you see his face?”

“He was tall - around your height, Steve – and had blonde hair, but that’s all I saw,” says Pepper. She looks apologetic and Steve catches the barest hint of a sad smile on her lips. “Sorry we can’t be more helpful.”

“You have helped more than you know,” says Steve with a shake of his head. He walks towards the door but turns to smile briefly at the man laying in the hospital bed before he opens it. “Get well soon, Happy.”

As he walks down the corridor, baseball cap pulled down over his face to try and shield himself from the eyes of workers and patients and, most importantly, reporters, the familiar clicking of heels against the floor sounds from behind him and he turns to see Pepper walking after him. She doesn’t look pleased, but she doesn’t look as angry as she did earlier, either. Steve gulps and hopes that his worry doesn’t show on his face.

“Did you need something, Pepper?”

“You’re asking about what happened because you’re looking out for Tony and making sure he doesn’t run himself into the ground; yes or no?”

“I- uh,” Steve stutters, thrown completely off guard. “That’s not the whole reason, but yes.”

Pepper eyes him critically and Steve shoves his hands inside the pockets of his pants so that he doesn’t fidget. “Good,” she says after a long silence. “I know that Tony will blame himself and there’s nothing anyone can do about that, but I also know that his guilt will drive him insane if he doesn’t catch who’s behind all of this and _that_ is where you and your team of delinquents come into use.”

Steve clears his throat awkwardly and averts his eyes to the floor. “Tony isn’t very fond of any of us right now, not even Natasha or Bruce. He doesn’t trust anyone anymore and basically said that he wants us all to leave him alone.”

“Well, that’s nothing new, is it?” says Pepper sharply, arms crossed over her chest and a single eyebrow raised as if daring Steve to snap back at her. “Steve, you are meant to be one of the greatest strategists this country has ever seen - if you can’t figure out a way to help Tony without smothering him then we’re all doomed.”

“But how-” Steve begins to ask, hoping that he will finally understand how he can begin to make things right again. Pepper cuts him off abruptly.

“Think with your head, not your heart.” Pepper places a hand on Steve’s shoulder and he glances up to meet her eyes, which have softened considerably. “You’ll be surprised how much falls into place once you do.”

“You make it sound so easy,” murmurs the super soldier. He may be taller than Pepper, but the woman can certainly make him feel as small as he used to be back in the 40’s just by looking into his eyes.

“That’s because it is, Steve. Try it, and if I’m wrong then you can be the first person to tell me so.”

Pepper gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze and then turns swiftly on her heel to walk back to Happy’s private room. Steve stays standing in the corridor for another long moment, watching as she disappears through the door, and then he eventually continues his journey to the fire escape stairwell and through the back exit to avoid being seen.

 _Maybe Pepper is right_ , he thinks. _Maybe it’s not as hard as I think._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is so terrible and so short and also a day late! I spent this entire week working in a hotel and I'm super exhausted so I haven't had much time to write, but I do hope that you all enjoy this anyway!
> 
> I had the absolute best time reading the comments on Chapter 5. You guys are so sweet and encouraging it makes my heart melt. I also got a great kick out of all of the comments wishing Tony and Pepper would just punch everyone in the face. I must say, you make it sound very tempting...
> 
> Oh, and I decided to do a chapter using some of Steve's POV for a change, so feedback on that would be fantastic. Hopefully next week's update will be on time since I get my summer holidays on Wednesday; woohoo!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony fucks up, and then tries to fix himself. Steve only wants to help, so why does he have to lie?

Instead of returning to his workshop, Tony rides the elevator up to his penthouse instead to take a long, hot shower. How long had he been in the workshop, anyway? He takes his time in the shower to scrub all of the sweat and dirt away and only steps out of it once his skin starts to prune up. Tony decides to forego his usual jean/t-shirt attire and instead changes into his comfiest pair of sweatpants and one of his Led Zeppelin shirts. Walking through his penthouse in his bare feet while wearing his lazy day clothes is freeing in a way that Tony has never experienced before.

Tony takes in a deep, soothing breath and proceeds to get extremely drunk.

 

**

 

Early the next morning, before the sun has even risen, Tony awakens. He panics for the briefest moment as he feels a weight on his ankle, fearing someone has tied him to the bed to torture him and probably break his ankles much like in that Stephen King novel Tony read years ago, until he realises that the weight is nothing more than Rhodey’s hand. Carefully, Tony manoeuvres himself from under his friends’ hand and slips out of the sheets, disregarding the chill that wracks his body as his bare feet touch the cool floor.

“FRIDAY,” murmurs Tony softly. His voice still echoes around his bedroom and he winces as Rhodey stirs in his chair, dry lips smacking together until he grows silent once more. “What happened? Is anyone else awake?”

“You began throwing up in your sleep, sir, and I took the liberty of informing Colonel Rhodes since he is your emergency contact. Based on my scans, it doesn’t appear as if anyone is awake yet aside from yourself.”

“Great.” Tony nods a little to himself and quietly exits his bedroom. He rides the elevator down five floors and continues to tread lightly as he heads towards his destination, which is the specially modified Avengers gym. Tony isn’t sure what possessed him to come here of all places, since it’s usually the Captain’s happy place in the Tower whenever he needs to burn off some steam, but Tony doesn’t think an engineering binge is what he needs right now and therefore the gym seems like the next best place. Besides, he likes the quiet.

The gym, unlike the newly furnished training room that intimidates the hell out of Tony and _he designed the entire fucking thing_ , looks rather ordinary compared to the chaotic, technologically advanced mess that is the rest of Avengers Tower. At first glance one would assume that Tony was too busy to bother re-furbishing the gym and therefore paid it no mind, but the gym has just as much Stark Tech as any other room in the Tower and was built to be able to withstand even the wildest of incidents (read: Thor and Steve trying out their Mj _ö_ lnir/Shield combos, Sam and Natasha creating the _fly, drop, and blast!_ technique, Clint shooting arrows that Wanda attempts to explode with her powers, etc). Tony can only hope that they move to the training room to test out new techniques because, even though the gym may be built to handle everything the Avengers throw at it, the gym was built for fitness purposes and _not_ destructive training purposes.

Tony walks towards the corner of the room where three black punching bags dangle from the ceiling in a straight line and stares at one of the heavy bags for a moment before punching it with all his might. He then swings for another punch, and another, and another, and resolutely ignores the screaming pain in his bones as he continues to lash out on the bag which, thanks to his upgrades, has barely taken any damage minus the blood smeared all over it. Tony only pauses in his assault of the bag to wipe some of the blood from his knuckles off on his t-shirt. He’s not sure how long he is in the gym trying to take all of his problems out on an inanimate object, but it’s long enough that his once clean grey t-shirt is now drenched in blood and sweat and, hell, probably some tears. Tony only ceases punching when the pain in his hands becomes too unbearable, and when he looks down at them he finds them caked in blood and bent in awkward ways. It hurts too much to straighten his fingers out from the tight fists his right hand is curled in but, unlike the right hand, his left hand is unable to even form a fist. Tony heaves a heavy sigh and holds both hands close to his chest.

“FRIDAY-”

“Already on it, boss,” she replies. “It appears that your ring and middle finger on your right hand are broken and your wrist is sprained, and one of your knuckles on your left hand is fractured. I would recommend you receive immediate medical assistance.”

Tony grunts and attempts to straighten his fingers of his right hand out again, which results in him barely keeping in a yell of agony. Wow, he really needs to brush up on his hand-to-hand combat... and maybe use a softer punching bag next time.

“Perhaps Dr. Banner could-”

“Bruce is not finding out about this,” snaps Tony through clenched teeth, chest heaving. “I don’t need his sympathy, or his charity. Are there bandages on the common floor?”

“All of the necessary first aid equipment is stored in the cupboard above the refrigerator.”

FRIDAY sounds extremely displeased, not that Tony can blame her. Tony ignores the dotted trail of crimson blood that marks his path out of the gym, into the elevator, and onto the common floor and he focuses on trying to patch himself up. Tony hadn’t spared any thought towards how exactly he was to reach the cupboard above the fridge and grab the first aid kit when 1) he’s too small to reach the cupboard in the first place and 2) he’s unable to grab things because every movement of his fingers causes him to yelp in pain. He decides to give it a shot anyway and attempts to climb on top of the counter without the use of his hands, which proves quite difficult and causes Tony’s head to smack off of some surface or another more than once. Eventually, he just gives up and steals a bottle of pricey Russian vodka, presumably Natasha’s, from the counter with his elbow and then sits at the kitchen table to drink it. He manages to remove the bottle cap with his teeth and Tony spends the remainder of the morning attempting to drink from a bottle clutched between his chest and elbow.

That’s the state that both Steve and Bucky find him in.

Both of them stare at Tony for a moment, obviously about to head out for their 7am run if their loose shorts and tank tops and trainers are anything to go by. Bucky, with his hair tied back into a messy ponytail, grumbles, “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“What happened to your hands, Tony?” asks Steve, eyes wide with concern as he takes a step forward. Tony flinches and awkwardly moves his arm to place the bottle back on the table. Steve stops abruptly, and his eyes flicker towards the doors of the cupboard above the fridge which are still flung wide open.

“Broken,” slurs Tony, shrugging his shoulders as he stares at his mangled and horribly swollen hands.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Tony looks up just in time to see Steve whack Bucky on the arm with a glare. A small smirk appears on his lips and when Steve sees this he sighs gently and runs a hand over his face.

“Do you want me to get Bruce?”

Tony is shaking his head before Steve even finishes his sentence. “Don’t get Bruce. No Bruce. Get Nat – yeah, Tasha, get her – wait, no, I’m drinking her vodka. Don’t get her.”

“Actually,” says Bucky in a disgruntled tone. “That’s my vodka.” He shrugs when Steve turns to look at him incredulously. “What? I like the taste.”

Tony noticeably pales, which is rather worrying because Steve didn’t think Tony could get any paler at the moment, and he stares at the bottle on the table as if it has offended him. Then, seemingly done without much thought, the bottle is slid across the surface of the kitchen table towards Bucky and Tony bites down on the neckline of his shirt and straightens out his fingers all at once, screaming into the fabric through clenched teeth from the pain of it. The action startles both of the super soldiers and leaves them gaping from across the room.

“Tony, you can’t do that! What the-”

“If he’s gonna kill me, I wanna a’least have a fair fight,” states Tony, slurring his words and swaying dangerously in his chair. He blinks owlishly for a moment as a wave of nausea sends his stomach reeling. Steve is crossing the room before he can even think about it, ordering FRIDAY to alert the others as to what is happening.

It takes less than five minutes for all of them to reach the kitchen, and when they do they look on in pity and mild horror. Bruce, Natasha, and Rhodey are the only three who dare to approach the mess of an engineer. Natasha has to hold Tony’s shoulders back to make sure that he doesn’t make any sudden movements and looks on in sympathy as Bruce announces that Tony definitely requires medical attention, and Rhodey pulls his wheelchair up next to Tony’s seat and allows his best friend to rest his head on his shoulder.

“What happened, Tones?” murmurs Rhodey. He sounds hurt and upset and Tony attempts to curl in on himself, hissing in pain when Natasha digs her nails into his shoulders to prevent the action.

“Punching things,” he responds, voice muffled by Rhodey’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. ‘s all good. I’ll heal.”

“And what if next time you don’t? What if you decide to get back into old habits but when I find you, it’s too late? How am I meant to deal with that? How are any of us meant to cope after that? Don’t forget that there are people that still give a shit about you, even if you don’t.”

Tony knows it’s a fair statement but he cannot help the way his body flinches in barely concealed rage at the mention of his past coping mechanisms. “You’ll get over it.”

That, apparently, is when Natasha decides she’s had enough. “Пиздец! I’m bringing you to the hospital. Someone get the white bread,” she orders. A second later a packet of sliced white bread is handed to her by Wanda. Natasha removes a slice from the packet and shoves it into Tony’s open mouth before he can object. He turns around in his chair to glare at her, which she returns wholeheartedly.

“ _Eat_.”

Tony huffs and chews on the bread in his mouth slowly, eventually swallowing it and sticking out his tongue at Natasha to show her his empty mouth. She quirks an eyebrow and hands him another. As Tony concentrates on chewing, Natasha coaxes Tony into standing and guides him out of the kitchen and towards the elevator with a gentle hand on his back. Rhodey wheels after them silently. They step into the elevator and Natasha orders FRIDAY to take them to the underground car park, which is when Steve slips past the doors and stands next to her.

“You’re not coming,” says Rhodey immediately.

“I know,” he responds, still sounding like a petulant child despite his bed efforts. “But I need to speak with Nat about something.” He turns to look at her, lower lip caught between his teeth. “It’ll be quick, I promise.”

Natasha shoves another slice of bread into Tony’s mouth and waits until the engineer begins chewing it sluggishly before she turns back to look at Steve. She eyes him judgementally for a moment and then slowly nods her head. Steve feels a sense of relief wash over him.

“Thank you,” he tells her seriously. “It won’t take long.”

“For Tony’s sake, it better not.”

The doors slide open and Tony stumbles into the car park. Rhodey manages to steady him, though he nearly falls out of his wheelchair in the process. Natasha unlocks the black SUV and carefully guides Tony into the backseat while Rhodey takes the passenger’s seat. She straps Tony in, mindful of his hands, and allows her eyes to linger on the dazed expression on her friends’ face before she sighs and closes the car door. As she folds Rhodey’s wheelchair up to place in the boot of the vehicle she casts Steve a glance over her shoulder and raises her eyebrow.

“Oh, right, um,” Steve stutters, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous tick. Even when dressed in a sweater, shorts, and converse with her hair tied up in a messy bun and despite how much Steve trusts her now, Natasha still manages to put the fear of God into him. “I’m looking for Spymaster. I need your help.”

Natasha pauses in her actions and turns around completely. “Why?” she asks, suspicion leaking through her words.

“I don’t know what to do next. I’ve been to visit Pepper and Happy and spoken to them about what happened, and Pepper said a man ran into them but they saw nothing else, and FRIDAY said that the IED was in-”

“No, Steve,” says Natasha around a sigh, effectively cutting his rant short. “Why are you looking for him?”

Steve sighs and runs a hand over his face. “It’s all we’ve got to go on,” he offers with a helpless shrug of his shoulders. His eyes suddenly turn distant and sad, and Natasha has a feeling that Steve isn’t finished explaining himself yet. “And Tony, he- he seemed so _sure_. I couldn’t shake this feeling that maybe he was right. And then I thought: what if he is and I didn’t believe him? I trusted Tony’s judgement before, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t trust it now.”

Rhodey honks the car horn and glares at Steve through the window. Natasha looks over her shoulder, holds up a finger to signal one second, and then turns back to Steve with an unreadable expression on her face. “Tony won’t like the idea of you helping him.”

Steve nods. “I know... and that’s why I’m not. I’ll investigate it, sure, and I’ll conveniently leave data around for him to pick up, but he won’t know that I’m even involved. As far as Tony knows, I disapprove of the whole Spymaster theory based on lack of evidence, which is why I need your help. Aside from needing your expertise, I need you to cover for me if Tony confronts you about it.”

Natasha tilts her head and bites the inside of her lip, chewing on it as she thinks. “Okay,” she says after a moment. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Rogers.”

Rhodey honks the horn again and Steve winces. Natasha rolls her eyes and takes her cue to leave, turning around to shut the trunk and then walking towards the driver’s door. Steve watches as she hops into the vehicle and slams the door shut, tossing the remainder of the bread into the back seat next to Tony before she starts the engine. Just as Steve goes to turn around, her window rolls down and Natasha sticks her head out of the opening, a sly smile on her lips.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” he asks, brows furrowed.

 “I’m glad to see that you’re learning.”

Steve doesn’t get to ask what she means because her window is already being rolled up as she drives away from him and to the hospital, but he thinks that he has a fair idea.

 

**

 

“Hey, Stevie,” greets Bucky from the doorway of Steve’s bedroom. He leans against the doorframe with a towel draped over his shoulder, drenched in sweat from his workout.

Steve glances up at him and gives him a brief smile before he returns to his work, muttering a distracted, “Hey, Buck.”

“What’re you workin’ on?”

“Just something Nat asked me to take care of while she was at the hospital with Tony.”

Bucky stays silent for a minute and narrows his eyes as he observes Steve’s figure, hunched over a StarkPad and typing rapidly. He can’t help but feel like Steve isn’t telling him the truth, and it confuses him because Steve promised that he would always tell Bucky what was going on, no exceptions. Bucky crosses his arms over his chest and frowns.

“What ain’t you tellin’ me, Stevie?” asks Bucky. Steve looks at him again and Bucky raises his eyebrows.

“There’s nothing I’m not telling you, Buck,” he says slowly.

Bucky holds eye contact with him and begins to feel uncertain the longer they stare at each other. He was never wrong about this sort of thing, but there’s a first time for everything, right? After all, Steve wouldn’t lie to him. He promised that he wouldn’t. Eventually, the ex-assassin sighs and ducks his head in shame.

“Sorry, guess it’s just been a long day or somethin’,” he says, attempting a sheepish smile.

Steve smiles back at him. “Day ain’t over yet, old man.”

Bucky flips Steve the middle finger and pushes himself away from the doorway to walk back to his room, grinning as Steve’s laughter echoes down the hall. Once Steve hears Bucky’s bedroom door close, his smile vanishes and he chews on his bottom lip anxiously. He feels guilty for lying to his best friend, especially when said best friend is still recovering from being brainwashed and probably wouldn’t take it very well if he found out the one person he was meant to trust lied to him, but he knows that Bucky would disapprove and think that Steve is only doing this to get back into Tony's good books. It's not a complete lie, but Steve also knows that if Tony is right about Spymaster then neither he nor Happy nor Pepper will be safe until the villain is captured. Steve only hopes with all of his might that Bucky will forgive him, and then he goes back to researching.

 

**

 

Tony returns to the Tower hours later with a killer hangover, bandages and the like covering both of his hands and down along his forearm. The doctor specifically told Natasha and Rhodey, who were both hovering like mother hens the entire time, that Tony is not allowed to do any strenuous activity of any kind for at least a month and a half. Who knew inventing was classified as a strenuous activity? Ignoring his killer migraine, Tony bitches about it the entire way back until Rhodey turns around and glares at him.

“Next time don’t be a self-destructive idiot and we won’t have this problem.”

Tony merely pouts and Rhodey huffs in irritation and turns back around in his seat. They round the corner and Natasha rolls down the window to let the facial recognition scanner do its thing before they are granted access to the Tower’s underground car park. An idea strikes Tony so suddenly that he feels a little woozy, probably from a combined mixture of blood loss and the rapid speed in which his thoughts are running around in his mind. He is so invested in his thoughts that he doesn’t register that the car has stopped moving until Natasha opens the back door and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Are you alright, мой дорогой?” Tony nods shakily and Natasha purses her lips. “Wait there while I get the wheelchair, and Rhodey and I will bring you to the penthouse. The doctor said lots of rest, so you’re getting it one way or another, Tony.”

Tony nods again. Natasha sighs and plants a gentle kiss to his cheek before she brushes past him to reach the trunk of the SUV. As she sticks her head inside to remove Rhodey’s wheelchair and unfold it, Tony makes a rash decision and bolts.

“Tony!” yells Rhodey from inside the car, glaring at his best friend as the elevator doors open. Natasha drops the wheelchair to the ground and breaks into a sprint. “Don’t you dare!”

“Love you, honey bear!” Tony calls back, rushing into the elevator and silently praying that the doors shut before Natasha reaches him, because if she does he is definitely going to be put to sleep for a _very_ long time. Someone seems to hear his prayers and, as Natasha is a step away from the elevator’s threshold, the doors close.

“To the workshop, FRIDAY,” he orders, breathing out a sigh of relief.

The AI complies without a word, which Tony is more than a little thankful for, and only speaks up once Tony enters his workshop and orders another lockdown.

“Boss, did the doctor not inform you to rest? I have taken the liberty of-”

“Don’t wanna hear it, FRI,” Tony cuts in. It feels good to know that his AI cares about him, programmed or not, but he has more important things to be doing right now. “You know the drill; don’t let anyone in or out without my say-so. I don’t care what happens, unless I’m on he brink of death no one is allowed access, not even Rhodey or Pepper.”

A long pause ensues. “Sure thing, boss.”

Tony takes in a deep breath and walks over to the far corner of his workshop, where the space resembles more of his lab upstairs than it does the rest of the workshop. There isn’t as much of a clutter in this side of the workshop, though, and the workbench is empty aside from a small glass box with a keypad on the front. Tony enters the six-digit code and the small glass chamber opens, releasing a cloud of mist. He waits until the mist clears and carefully grabs one of the test tubes with two of his undamaged fingers, which proves to be harder than it looks but Tony eventually manages to place it in a holder to be left for the time being.

“Hey, Dum-E, will you grab me that over there? No, not that, beside it. Yes, that one, thanks.”

The bot wheels over holding an unopened plastic bag with a large syringe in it. Tony takes the bag from its claw and the bot beeps happily once Tony smiles at it gratefully. After a few minutes of struggling, Tony finally manages to open the bag and he pulls out the syringe with a proud smile. Dum-E beeps again, but this time it sounds more worried.

“Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll be fine. I need your help with this next part, though, okay? Can you grab that test tube for me, please?” Dum-E reaches up and gently grabs the test tube with its claw, careful not to spill any of its content. Tony keeps a firm grip on the syringe as he lowers himself to the ground, resting his back against the wall with a grunt. “Thanks. Now, this next part might look scary, but don’t be afraid, okay?” Dum-E beeps again and rolls forward to bump into Tony’s foot. “C’mon, Dum-E, don’t be like that. You’re the only one I trust enough to do this. Just don’t tell that to U.”

The bot is seemingly appeased by this and wheels around to the other side of Tony to be closer to him.

“Keep it steady, okay? Make sure you don’t drop it.”

Slowly, Tony dips the tip of the needle in and pulls the top of the syringe up so that it fills with the serum. Dum-E makes sure to keep the test tube perfectly still, even though there’s barely even a drop left in it now. Tony examines the bright orange liquid, which seems to almost glow, and takes in a long, deep breath. _What have I got to lose?_

“FRIDAY,” he murmurs softly, bringing the syringe around the back of his head and resting the tip of the needle against the correct spot. “If something goes wrong, make sure that things are kept running smoothly with the company and the Tower... and make sure no snot-nosed lawyer gets their hands on my will. I trust that Pepper will handle it all but, just in case, you know what to do.”

“Of course, sir.”

Tony inhales slowly again, thinking that it could be his last chance to ever do it again, and then sinks the needle into the nape of his neck and presses down on the tip of the syringe. As soon as the Extremis serum is injected into his bloodstream, Tony’s vision goes blurry and his body begins burning up. He can faintly hear Dum-E’s worried beeping and the whirring of his wheels, but no words of reassurance leave his mouth and Tony slips into unconsciousness.

 

**

 

“Good morning, boss.”

Tony groans. He keeps his eyes shut firmly as he turns on his side to go back to sleep, only for him to realise that he is not in his California King bed and is, instead, on the floor of his workshop. He sits up with a jolt. Dum-E and U roll over to him at such a pace that he is worried their wheels will catch on something and they will fall, but they don’t stop until they reach their creator. Tony sits there, dumbfounded and – _naked?_ , and allows his bots to beep happily and wheel circles around him as he struggles to remember the events which lead him to this moment. Suddenly, he remembers. _Extremis._

“There were quite a few close calls, sir, but it appears that the Exremis serum has successfully rootted itself in your body. The arc reactor proved its most challenging competitor and it almost caused multiple seizures, but I can no longer detect any issues with your current health. As a matter of fact, your health is better than it has been for quite a while, sir.”

Tony grins and woops with joy. As well as his clothes, his bandages and casts have also mysteriously vanished, and so Tony flexes his fingers experimentally. He laughs incredulously. “It works!”

“Indeed, sir. I should inform you that your body was in an unconscious state for four days, and on the second day Colonel Rhodes informed Miss Potts that you had initiated another lockdown. Her response was not pleasant.”

Tony grimaces and his elation at his new-and-improved body and health vanishes almost instantly. Pepper will _not_ be pleased when he tells her. Tony hadn’t told her that, after he had cured her of the Extremis, he had also taken samples and all of the data that he would need to improve and stabilise it. In his defence, he never really had a chance because they only ever spoke about Stark Industries related things after the break-up. Tony knows that he’s only looking for excuses, but he also really didn’t think that he would make it out of the shabby procedure alive. He hadn’t accounted for ever having to tell Pepper that he just injected himself with something that almost killed her and caused her so much grief in the past.

“All inhabitants of the Tower are currently in the living room in your penthouse discussing how to gain access to the workshop. I believe their favoured plan is to break the door, sir.”

“Alright, alright,” mutters Tony, throwing his hands up into the air. He rummages around for the spare pair of clothes that he usually keeps in the workshop, and grins triumphantly when he finds them and slips them on. “I’ll go up to them. God, when did you become such a nagging mother?”

“That is a question for yourself, boss, since it was you and you alone that programmed me,” responds FRIDAY in a dry tone.

Tony snorts and enters the elevator, waving goodbye to the bots as the doors shut and it brings him all the way up to his penthouse floor. The chatter has already ceased by the time the elevator reaches his floor, and the sight of everyone frozen in place while staring at the doors is what greets him once he steps out. Tony forces himself to look confused as he walks further into the living area and tilts his head to the side.

“What-” He manages to get out before Pepper takes a menacing step forward and firmly pokes him in the sternum.

“What were you thinking?! You manage to break _both_ of your hands being a drunken, reckless idiot and then, while high on pain medication, you lock yourself in the workshop for four days and upon your reappearance, you have the _audacity_ to ask what’s going on?!” Pepper’s chest heaves up and down from excursion and as her mouth opens to rant some more, her eyes trail down to look at Tony’s hands and she frowns. “Why are there no bandages?”

This prompts Rhodey, who wheeled over with a glare as fierce as Pepper’s own in the midst of her rant, to look down at Tony’s hands. He frowns for a moment, the same as Pepper, and then he begins to look uneasy.

“Tony, please tell me that you didn’t do anything stupid.”

“It really depends on your definition of stupid-”

Rhodey crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. “Cut the shit, Tones. What did you do?”

Tony feels like a deer caught in headlights as Pepper and Rhodey look at him expectantly. Here, right in front of him, are the two people who have always tried to be by Tony’s side no matter what. They are the two whom have always tried to do right by him and, for the most part, succeeded. Even when they wronged him, it was always over something small and they would do their damndest to make it up to him again. Suddenly overcome with guilt, Tony avoids their eyes and looks down at his bare feet.

_Please, please, don’t hate me._

“I got Dum-E to rip them off,” Tony lies. He feels disappointed with himself at how easy lying comes to him, but he will do anything to keep Pepper and Rhodey with him. Telling them about Extremis will only drive them away once and for all. “I was working on a healing serum, but I never got a chance to test it out until now. As it turns out, it works like a charm.”

A moment of silence passes. The first person to move just so happens to be Pepper, and she engulfs Tony in a large bear hug. Tony stills for a moment, positive that his surprise is evident on his face, and then snakes his arms around her waist to return the hug. It’s the first proper hug that they have shared since before their break up. Tony doesn’t count the one in the hospital as they waited to hear news about Happy because Pepper had been crying and in desperate need of some comfort. This time is different.

“Does that mean you can heal like Wolverine?” asks Clint, effectively ruining the moment.

Pepper releases Tony and stands back, smiling as Tony laughs at Clint. “No, it just works like a really fast pill. Practically all of my aches are gone, and I think my bones are fully healed. That’s why I spent so long in the workshop; I wanted to check for any side effects before I told anyone.”

Tony is relieved to find that, upon scanning everyone’s faces, they all seem to believe him and look rather impressed. It isn’t such a far-fetched lie, either, considering the amount of time Tony usually spends in his workshop without coming out for food or sleep. The only one that looks slightly doubtful is, surprisingly, Steve. Tony ignores the look of uncertainty on the blonde’s face and clears his throat.

“Now, if everyone could leave my floor so that I may sleep in peace that would be great.”

He receives a few eye rolls and grunts in response, but no objections, so Tony considers it a win as they all file past him to enter the elevator. Natasha is the last to squirm her way into the cramped elevator, and she smirks over her shoulder at the engineer.

“I’ll be waking you up bright and early, Stark. We’ll be able to continue training now that your hands are fixed.”

The doors shut just as he throws his head back and groans, “You are a cruel woman, Romanoff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all over the place but, hey, I tried. I promise (hope) everything will start tying together nicely in later chapters, but for now please enjoy the update. There is a chance that I will be updating more frequently now that I am officially on Summer holidays, but we'll see!
> 
> How do you think the team will react once they find out what exactly Tony has done to himself? What will Bucky do when he realises that Steve lied to him? And how will Tony feel when he discovers that Steve is the one helping him? So many questions, so little time.
> 
> Oh, and I have yet another angsty song recommendation: Comatose by Mikky Ekko. That song paired with this fic? Ouch.
> 
> Пиздец! = That's it!  
> мой дорогой = My dear.


	8. Chapter 8

 

True to her word, Natasha wakes Tony at 6am the next morning, She is already dressed in her exercise clothes and her hair is pulled back into yet another high ponytail. She poses as a menacing figure, looming over Tony with his sheets clutched firmly in her hands and almost giving him a heart attack. Her lips form a smug smile at the undignified squawk that leaves him.

“Morning, sunshine,” she drawls. Tony flips her off and rolls out of bed with a groan. Natasha takes a step back just as Tony flops onto the ground, and raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“You have ten minutes to clean yourself up and get dressed.”

At that, she throws the sheets on top of Tony’s face as he lay on the ground and exits the bedroom. With yet another groan, Tony manages to drag himself to his feet and he trudges into the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. He doesn’t bother gelling up his hair and decides to leave it lying flat and fluffy on his forehead. Feeling more awake, he then leaves the bathroom and enters his extremely large walk-in closet to throw on the first items of clothing he sees. He emerges from his bedroom after exactly ten minutes, wearing a grey pull-over hoodie on top of his black tank top and black sweatpants. Natasha looks him over and nods approvingly

“Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you again,” she says as they walk side-by-side to the elevator. Tony splutters and turns to look at her incredulously.

“ _Again_?” he echoes. “It took me an hour just to punch you last time!”

“Easy,” she repeats, and then enters the elevator to leave Tony staring at her with a dumbfounded expression until she reaches out and drags him in. “Plus, this could be a good way to check for any other side effects from that experiment of yours.”

Her tone is casual and impassive, but Tony knows Natasha better than that and he narrows his eyes. She looks at him from the corner of her eye and Tony chuckles lowly, shaking his head.

“You know, don’t you?”

Natasha’s response is innocent, but her smile is coy. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Tony tries, in vain, to get the assassin to admit that she knows the truth but Natasha is anything if not stubborn and continues to play the innocence card all the way down to the gym floor. It’s not until they reach the sparring mats that she finally seems to crack.

“Let’s test out how enhanced your body really is, hmm?”

“Aha!” Tony exclaims, pointing a finger at her. “So you admit it!”

Natasha ducks under the rope and, with a sigh, walks to her corner of the ring. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Tony.” She plucks a stray piece of fluff from her shirt as Tony climbs in after her. “And to say that I knew would be a lie because I don’t know what you actually did to yourself, but I do know that it wasn’t a simple healing serum. Whether you continue to keep it a secret or not is up to you.”

Tony eyes her suspiciously. “Yeah, the decision is mine up until you pull your weird super-spy shit and find out for yourself.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, but I’m not stupid, Nat. You and I both know that you are fully capable of finding out by yourself, so why haven’t you?”

Natasha schools her features into a deadpan, “are-you-stupid” expression and Tony frowns.

“I’m giving you space, Tony. More importantly, I’m giving you my trust. I’m trusting that you will make a decision that benefits you, and if keeping whatever you did in the workshop a secret is something that will do that, then I won’t intervene.”

Tony stares at her blankly for a moment. “You-” he starts, then stops, and Natasha watches him with thinly veiled amusement. “You actually listened to what I said? The other day, when I was yelling at everyone for the umpteenth time, you listened?”

“Yes, Tony,” says Natasha. She steps forward and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We all did, Tony. I know that we haven’t been exactly helpful, but we are trying, Любимый.”

Tony nods his head slowly but gives no verbal reply. After another moment of eye contact, Natasha swipes Tony’s feet from under him with a vicious grin. The engineer yelps as his back hits the mat and glares up at the redhead, who looks thoroughly delighted at having caught him off guard.

“Oh it’s _on_ , Romanoff.”

Tony surprises both himself and Natasha by kicking himself off of the mat and landing perfectly on his feet. They share a look of surprise before they both grin and Natasha suddenly twists her body and aims a kick to Tony’s jaw. Tony blocks it with his forearm and grabs her ankle to tug it harshly, causing Natasha to lose her balance and for her back to hit the mat with an ‘oof’. She is back on her feet in less than a second and they continue to spar with no holds barred. Tony feels exhilarated as they spar, and he cannot help the manic grin on his face as he senses Natasha’s next moves a second before she delivers them, and is therefore able to block them all and return his own rather powerful blows.

Unbeknownst to them, Clint slips inside the gym to work out and stops abruptly at the sight before him. He watches his two friends fight viciously for a moment, and then hightails it out of there to inform the others. They pause long enough in their sparring for Tony to shrug his sweat-drenched hoodie off over his head, and then Natasha leaps and wraps her legs around Tony from behind, placing him in a chokehold. Tony stumbles slightly and jerks his head backwards to bash his skull against Natasha’s face. Natasha grunts from pain but only tightens her arm around Tony’s throat, so he is forced to get more creative. Tony grabs Nat’s arms and propels himself forward a step, using the momentum to swing Natasha over his head so that she hits the mat again and is left staring up at Tony with a bloody nose. The engineer smirks down at her, prepared to gloat, but the one move that he doesn’t expect is Natasha’s punch to his balls, which knocks the air right out of him but isn’t nearly as painful as it would have been without the Extremis.

Natasha uses Tony’s vulnerability against him and uppercuts his jaw, sending his head back and causing his vision to blur slightly. Her fist flies towards his face again but Tony catches it with his hand and bends her arm, not getting a chance to see Natasha wince as he has to duck to avoid a punch from her other hand. Seeing the opportunity, Tony tackles her onto the mat and they begin to wrestle for the upper hand. Natasha manages to roll them over and pin Tony’s arms beneath her so that she can assault his faced with her fists, but Tony’s new strength allows him to throw her across the gym with hardly any struggle. Sweat is pouring down his neck, back, arms, legs, and even getting into his eyes, but Tony is too focused on the fight to notice. Blood trickles down Natasha’s pale face and drips off of her chin but there isn’t a trail of sweat on any obvious part of her body, which Tony isn’t the least bit surprised by.

It seems like their sparring match will never end, given how stubborn and skilled they both are, and Tony is honestly just astounded that he hasn’t started panting yet. Eventually, Natasha is the one who calls for a time out, and that is only because Tony threw her too hard against the mats and she dislocated her shoulder. Tony watches as she pops the shoulder back into place with practiced ease and he suppresses a grimace at the sound, which has Natasha smirking at him.

“So, we’ve figured out that whatever you’ve done to yourself is working pretty well in terms of self defence,” she says as they head towards the exit.

“I guess we have,” Tony responds, bumping their shoulders together.

“Sir,” says FRIDAY, seeming urgent. “My access to your penthouse floor seems to have been revoked and the camera feeds have been disconnected. Shall I-”

Tony and Nat share a look and then run towards the already open doors of the elevator. The doors close not even a second after they step foot inside, and then they are travelling upwards.

“Alert the others and tell them to suit up. If Clint’s in the vents, tell him to check it out but not to engage the intruder until Nat and I get there. Tell Falcon to bring Redwing and check the perimeter for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary.”

“Got it, boss. The Captain, along with Sergeant Barnes, Dr. Banner, and Ms. Maximoff, have taken the fire escape stairwell and are awaiting further orders.”

The elevator doors open and, after exchanging dubious looks, Natasha walks silently onto the floor and blends in with the shadows by the far wall as Tony takes a more direct route and walks into the middle of his floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Nat walking down the corridor cautiously to clear the area. Talk continues to walk further into his penthouse and, just as he reaches the living room, his step falters. The double glass doors leading to the landing pad are blown wide open and, as Tony creeps closer, he can see that something has been written on the ground with red paint.

“Next time, I won’t fail,” Tony reads. He stares at the words, which seem to be taunting him, and then calls out for Natasha in a shaky voice. Natasha, in turn, calls for the other Avengers to enter and they all make their way onto the landing pad and read the message that is now haunting Tony. It’s about Happy and Pepper, he knows, and Tony is torn between having another breakdown or going after the bastard that had the _audacity_ to break into his Tower, dismantle his AI, and leave a daunting message just to provoke him.

“Tony...” mutters Natasha in warning. Sometimes Tony really hates how well she knows him. He clenches his jaw and inhales deeply, and then turns to push past Wanda and Steve to head inside. His cuffs for the armour lay forgotten on the breakfast bar and Tony fits them on quickly and without a word. When he turns, he is the closest to Steve than he has been in _months_.

“Tony,” murmurs the Captain quietly, taking advantage of Tony’s shocked silence while he can. “I know you don’t want me to intervene but _please_ , think about this logically for a second. Don’t be the hero, Tony, it’s what he wants.”

Tony seems to snap out of his daze in less than a second and his eyes harden. “I’m not a hero, Cap. I stopped pretending to be one a long time ago.”

Steve’s eyes widen a fraction as he recognises the words from his first encounter with Tony, back when they fought like cats and dogs and had no idea of the future that lay before them. He takes a step back and lowers his head, feeling ashamed and guilty, and Tony walks past him with a quiet scoff.

“Don’t be an idiot, Tony,” says Bruce, voice gentle despite his hands clenching and unclenching into fists. “What are you going to do? Fly around Manhattan looking for him? Give him the perfect opportunity for an air strike? We don’t know the first thing about him, Tony. You’re being foolish.”

“Better a fool than a supposed superhero letting a _criminal_ get away,” says Tony. He ignores the eyes of the others as he flicks his wrists and holds his arms out, waiting for his armour to fly from the workshop and attach itself to his body. Tony finds comfort in the cool air blowing against his face as it serves to calm the rapid beating of his heart. He hasn’t stepped foot inside the Iron Man armour since the events of the Accords. Looking at the red and gold helmet brought back too many painful memories of friends lost and relationships broken, and Tony just _couldn’t do it_. Now, though, it’s almost like a challenge for himself – and Tony hates to lose.

“ _Tony_ -”

Tony ignores his former teammates in favour of flexing his fingers experimentally to try and remember the feel of them in the suit. It feels just like he remembers, and possibly even better. Tony’s pulse jumps from a mix of nerves and exhilaration as the chest plate of his armour fits onto his chest and over the arc reactor firmly. Finally, the helmet flies into Tony’s hands and he stares at in contemplation before he slowly slips it on over his head. Around him, the suit comes to life after so long out of use.

“Welcome back, boss,” comes FRIDAY’s voice. Tony releases a soft laugh and watches as lines of code and data appear before his eyes before they vanish and the suit is ready for use.

“Oh, it is good to be back,” says Tony with a grin, and he flies off of the landing pad without a second thought.

 

**

 

“You better have something to report.”

“Stark is rising to the bait like a fool. He has stepped foot inside his armour for the first time since the Accords. If my predictions are correct, which they will be, he will continue to do so over the coming weeks and the plan will proceed as normal.”

“And what of the other Avengers?”

“Not an issue.”

“I have been informed that Captain America has been doing some research, sticking his nose in where it does not belong. He also visited the two people that you _failed_ to eliminate. Now I ask you, how is that not an issue?”

“Trust me when I say that Captain America and his gang of simpleton’s will not be a problem. As for Mr. Hogan and Ms. Potts? I have big plans for them. Tony Stark will be eliminated by the end of the month, that I guarantee.”

“I do hope your confidence is justified. It’ll be your head if it isn’t.”

 

**

 

“Ms. Potts is approaching the workshop, boss.”

Tony grunts around the mini screwdriver in his mouth and turns to the screen to his right. He enlarges a part of the holographic blueprint of Clint’s new hearing aid/comm. link and studies it for a moment. The clicking of Pepper’s heels against the floor grows louder the closer she get to the workshop, not that Tony is paying attention to anything other than his work. With minimum effort, he wheels himself backwards in his stool to grab another screwdriver with a different head from his mini toolkit and hums along to the music playing. Pepper clears her throat as Tony is unscrewing a piece of the hearing aid to get a closer look at the wiring.

“You’re all over the news,” she says in lieu of greeting.

“And _you_ are meant to be on vacation,” Tony responds, taking the screw driver from his mouth.

It’s weird for him, seeing Pepper in her more casual clothes for the first time in months. She looks as gorgeous as ever, though, in her denim skinny jeans, white blouse, and black blazer paired with black strappy heels. Tony sees the baby blue Michael Kors bag slung over her shoulder and recognises it as one he bought her, maybe a year or so ago. _At least she liked_ that _enough to keep it_. Tony immediately feels ashamed of himself.

“There’s nothing wrong with visiting a friend. Anyway, that’s not what I came to talk about. I came to tell you that Happy is being released tomorrow. The doctors are happy with his progress, so they’re allowing him to come home provided he get plenty of bed rest and take it easy.”

Tony places the hearing aid and his tools down and turns in his stool to give Pepper a smile. “That’s great news, Pep.”

“You’re welcome to visit any time, Tony,” she says, and then looks around the workshop with a grimace. “It’ll get you out of here for a while, at least.”

“What’s wrong with my workshop?” he asks with an exaggerated pout. He crosses his arms over his chest and Pepper grins at him and rolls her eyes.

“Other than the fact it’s a dump?”

“Good. Now I know that it represents who I am,” Tony snarks. He means for it to come out as a joke, but Pepper’s smile loses its amusement and she looks at him sympathetically.

“Tony...”

“Relax, Pep. It’s called making the best out of a bad situation. Just some light-hearted humour, but apparently you’re a robot that doesn’t like laughter. What’s next? Hating puppies? Leaving a kitten up a tree? Or-”

Pepper cuts him off with a sigh. “I really wish you wouldn’t do that. You know I hate it.”

“I know,” says Tony, and without thinking, he adds: “It’s why you broke up with me.”

Pepper stiffens and her jaw clenches. Tony both regrets the words that escaped and is glad that he has finally let them out after keeping the bottled up for so long.

“No,” she denies firmly. “I broke up with you because I couldn’t handle watching you fly away in that suit-” She jabs a finger in the direction of the suit he wore today. Tony glances over and the helmet stares back at him, taunting him. “- and wondering if that would be the last time I saw you. I tried to support you, I really did, but you have a death wish, Tony. I’m sorry if I was selfish, but the stress was eating me alive.”

Tony clears his throat and looks down. “No I- I know, Pepper. I get it. You did what you had to do.”

An awkward silence falls over them. Pepper, despite looking frighteningly powerful at all times, seems unsure of herself and her actions as she hovers by the door. Tony worries his bottom lip between his teeth and scratches at the old and faded scars on his arms.

“You should get back to Happy. I think Downton’s on soon, and you of all people know how he loves to have company while he watches it. I have work to do anyway,” says Tony quietly.

Pepper nods and turns to head out the glass doors. At the foot of the stairs, because she prefers to take them rather than the elevator for some unknown reason, she falters in her step and looks back at Tony over her shoulder.

“You will visit, won’t you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Pepper gives Tony a look that he can’t read, and it makes him anxious. He hates being unable to read people. It makes him feel vulnerable to an attack and that’s a dangerous feeling, given his circumstances. “There’s no shame in struggling, Tony. I know that you’d rather handle things yourself, and that’s fine - I’ll stay out of your business as long as you can promise me that you’re not being destructive. Believe what you like, but I _do_ care about you.”

Tony swallows to try and rid himself of the sudden dryness in his throat and remains silent. Pepper sighs and looks away from Tony. _She can’t stand the sight of you_ , his mind whispers. Tony grimaces and turns around in his stool to face the large screen. The sound of Pepper’s heels fade away after another moment, and Tony drops his head against his workbench with a groan. It isn’t until he sits upright once more that he notices the dent his head made in the solid countertop.

“FRIDAY,” he says around a weary sigh. “Scan me. I want to keep regular check on the Extremis in my body. If it had a bad reaction to the reactor before, chances are that it will act up again. I can’t afford to let that happen, not while Spymaster is around. Speaking of our local pain in the ass, where are we at on exposing his identity?”

“I’m afraid that no new information has been discovered yet, boss. What I _can_ report is that the Extremis seems to have settled into your bloodstream without further trouble. Would you like me to regularly conduct scans to assure your health?”

Tony ponders the thought for a moment. “Sure, why not? How regular are we talking?”

“That is up to you, sir.”

“Let’s just say every 48 hours, yeah?”

“Of course, sir.”

Tony stands from his workbench and stretches his arms over his head. “Have we figured out how Spymaster gained access to the Tower yet? Or how he managed to disable your audio and visual feed connected to the penthouse?”

“We have not found anything of the like, boss. Mr. Wilson did not catch anyone suspicious around the Tower, and neither did any of the CCTV cameras around Manhattan. It appears that Spymaster is something of a ghost.”

Tony grunts in disappointment and scrubs a hand over his face. “Keep me posted. Oh, and cancel my meetings for tomorrow. I’m going to bring Pep and Happy back to their apartment tomorrow, just to be safe.”

“Sorry, boss, no can do. Ms. Potts is still on vacation, and one representative from Stark Industries must be present at every meeting of great importance to the company. And no, sir, these meetings cannot be postponed as they already have been on numerous occasions. Perhaps another Avenger can keep watch until your duties are done?”

“Shit,” mutters Tony. He chews on his lower lip and walks towards the elevator. Who can he trust to keep Pepper and Happy safe? Rhodey is obviously out of the question considering his temporary paralysis and the fact that he would be unable to use the War Machine armour if a situation called for it. The elevator doors open and remove Tony from his thoughts.

“What does Natasha have planned for tomorrow?” he asks.

“Agent Romanoff is accompanying Dr. Banner to a robotics conference in Queens. They will be leaving early tomorrow morning and will not be returning to the Tower until the next day.” Tony opens his mouth to speak again, but FRIDAY cuts across him. “Mr. Wilson will be visiting family and won’t return until late tomorrow evening, and Agent Barton is accompanying Ms. Maximoff to a date with the Vision.”

“Vision’s back?” Tony splutters. “Why does no one tell me these things?!”

“The Vision has returned to New York for a brief visit, and has requested I inform you that he will return to the Tower once he has done what is required of him.”

Tony rolls his eyes and steps out onto the communal floor. “You mean he’ll come back when he’s done with the whole soul-searching shit.”

“Precisely, boss.”

With a loud sigh, Tony walks into the kitchen and grabs one of Clint’s doughnuts from the fridge. “So,” he says, voice muffled as he speaks around the food in his mouth. “That leaves-”

“Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes,” FRIDAY supplies helpfully.

Tony swallows some of the doughnut and groans. “One’s bad, and the other’s worse. Could I just hire someone to look after them?”

“Ms. Potts would not be pleased, sir, but if it’s what you wish...”

“No, no, not if it’ll make Pep angry. I can’t handle her angry calling me again, especially if I’ll be stuck in board meetings all day.”

FRIDAY is silent for a minute. Tony eats the rest of the doughnut with no interruption, and then decides to eat another just for the hell of it.

“Shall I inform Captain Rogers, then, sir?”

With a sigh, Tony waves around his half-eaten doughnut in a lazy gesture and nods. “If you must,” he acquiesces.

 

**

 

Steve is on his and Bucky’s floor, curled up on the sofa in the living room with his sketchpad laying on his lap and his pencils surrounding him, when FRIDAY’s voice suddenly fills the apartment and he jumps. It creates a large pencil mark across his drawing and Steve groans unhappily, which prompts a laugh out of Bucky, who is grinning at him from behind his book at the other end of the couch.

“Yes, FRIDAY?” he asks, polite as ever despite having a slight inner meltdown at the thought of having to erase his very large mistake without doing damage to his drawing.

“You are available tomorrow, correct?”

“I- Sure, yeah...” Steve trails off, feeling more than a little clueless. “Why?”

“Sounds awfully like FRIDAY’s askin’ you out on a date, Stevie,” Bucky snickers. Steve whacks him on the arm.

“Mr. Hogan is being released from Mt. Sinai Hospital tomorrow, and Sir has requested you escort both he and Ms. Potts to their apartment until he has finished his meetings.”

Steve and Bucky share a look. “Are you sure Tony meant _me_? What about Nat, or-”

“I can assure you, Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY interjects firmly. “You were not the first choice. Mr. Stark would much rather be in your position, but he is unable to reschedule his meetings and Ms. Potts does not take kindly to hired help. It would be much less catastrophic for Mr. Stark if you were to act as their bodyguard for the day.”

“Okay, yes, I’ll do it,” Steve splutters. He feels too surprised to do much of anything else, and he’s positive that it shows on his face. “If- If you’re sure no one else can, then of course I’ll do it.”

“I will forward the required information to your phone in the morning, Captain.”

Steve can feel Bucky’s intense stare as he gazes straight ahead with his lips parted in surprise. It takes a moment, but Steve manages to clear his throat and mutter a half-assed excuse to Bucky under his breath as he practically flees from their floor. Ignoring his friend’s bewildered expression, Steve waits for the elevator doors to shut behind him before he orders: “Take me to wherever Tony is.”

FRIDAY’s displeases tone fills the elevator. “Captain-”

“ _Please_ , FRIDAY.”

“... Sir has granted you access to the workshop.”

Steve frowns. “Was my access revoked or something?”

“Yes, Captain. Mr. Stark has asked to be alerted of every person wishing to gain access to his workshop as well as his private floor, including Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes.”

Before Steve can say anything else, the doors are opening and the sound of clanging metal fills his ears. The super soldier takes a cautious step forward, keeping a watchful eye out for any flying objects that could hit him, and he bites back a smile as he hears Tony’s indignant voice in his head exclaiming: “One time, Steve! It was _one time_!”

The metal clanging comes to a stop, and Steve looks around until he sees Tony wheeling himself out from beneath... something, Steve isn’t sure what. The smaller man wipes his dirty hands off on his jeans and manages to pull himself to his feet without any visible effort. Steve raises an eyebrow. Tony raises one back.

“I’m assuming you didn’t come down here to stare at me,” says Tony eventually.

“I just wanted to come down and, uh, I don’t know – thank you, I guess? For trusting me enough to keep Pepper and Happy safe tomorrow. I mean, I know I wasn’t your first choice but it still means a lot to me.”

Tony pats Dum-E on the claw as the bot wheels past him to circle around Steve in a flurry of excited beeps and whirring sounds. As Steve crouches down to reach Dum-E’s level, he sees Tony watching them with different emotions rolling across his face like a rough tide: fond, then sad, then hurt, and then guarded until Tony’s face eventually evens out and his expression is once again blank and void of emotion. Steve pretends that he doesn’t notice.

“Anything to make you feel included, Cap,” mutters Tony with a roll of his eyes. Steve pats Dum-E’s claw gently and barely manages to hold in a sigh.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” says the blonde quietly. Tony grunts in response, so Steve speaks again. “You know a lot of things – about science, about business... about me.”

Tony clenches his jaw and turns his back to him. “Steve.”

“I know a lot about you, too, Tony. Or, at least, I used to. This whole Spymaster situation is affecting you more than any of the rest of us, and I just want to make sure that you don’t do anything stupid because you think that we don’t want to help. I stand by what I said about not killing, but if the situation calls for it then I will do anything to keep you safe. I want you to know that.”

“And what if I say the situation calls for it but you disagree? It’s just going to turn out how it did in Siberia and I don’t fancy a repeat of that.”

The longer Steve watches Tony, the more he notices the tense line in the man’s shoulders and the slight waver in his voice. Steve’s gut wrenches and he runs a hand through his hair.

“Neither do I,” he replies in a gentle tone. “I know you don’t want to hear this but _I_ need to say it, okay? When we first started dating, I made a promise to you that I would never intentionally hurt you. I broke that promise, whether I realised it at the time or not doesn’t count because I realise it now and you have every reason to hate me. I know that I screwed up big time, but I will never stop trying to earn your trust and forgiveness unless you can tell me with 100% certainty that you don’t want this, that you don’t want us.”

Steve can’t see it, but Tony clenches his hands into fists and wills back the oncoming panic attack and wave of fresh tears. “You’re wasting your time, Steve,” he says in a voice so soft that the words are almost a whisper.

“Time spent on you is never a waste, Tony,” Steve responds.

Tony remains silent after that, and Steve takes it as his queue to leave. As he walks towards the exit, a small amount of hope flares in his chest and causes a smile to appear on his lips when Steve realises that _Tony never said no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates recently! I've been having some personal issues lately, but let's hope that I manage to write another chapter for Friday. Apologies for how terrible this is but I did my best.
> 
> I couldn't resist including the line: "Time spent on you is never a waste, Tony." because I love it and I need a bit of love to lighten the angst. 
> 
> If you have any questions or would just like to talk, here is my [tumblr](http://badlandsanthem.tumblr.com/) and don't forget to give the Spotify [playlist](https://play.spotify.com/user/brianne_og/playlist/5Bstv4UVElx6cASOj7JDBb?play=true&utm_source=open.spotify.com&utm_medium=open) based on this fic a listen to as well.


	9. Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends. Long time no see.
> 
> Sorry if you were expecting an update but I felt shitty for not leaving an explanation as to why it's taking me so long to write more for this fic.  
> It gets kind of blue for a teeny bit and touches on my mental health, so if this is something that could cause you any unease please be aware of that.

 

Let me start off by saying this: I am the worst. Why, you ask?

1) This fic has been abandoned for nearly seven months, in which I spent those months opening the word document and staring at the blinking cursor without actually _writing anything._

2) Some of you probably got excited thinking that,  _finally_ , there's a new chapter, only to click onto that lovely ’Next Chapter‘ button and find that it's just me throwing pitiful excuses at you.

3) I convinced myself that I was bereft of inspiration yet wrote many other pieces for other ships on my laptop and politely ignored the one fic I actually had to update.

Oops.

Truth be told, over time it became harder and harder for me to write this fic. In the beginning, I enjoyed cracking open my laptop and writing until my eyes were too fuzzy from staring at a computer screen, and the comments I received fuelled my confidence and energy and I was busting out chapters _weekly_. Can you believe it?

The fifth chapter of this fic was (and still is, I think?) the most successful chapter in this work. Up until then, the number of comments was increasing and then hit an all-time high at the fifth. I was elated. For once, I thought my writing was good enough to be enjoyed by so many people and that maybe I could achieve my goals after all.

Alas, my happiness was not to be. The comments, along with the interest of my readers, diminished until I was nearly tearing my hair out with each new chapter trying to figure out where it all went so wrong. The quality of my writing deteriorated as did my confidence and my mental health. This fic was no longer enjoyable for me to write, and I felt trapped in some sort of twisted barren spell. So, I stopped writing it.

It was never my intention to abandon this fic for so long, but then again it _has_ taken me almost seven months to realise that I was so focused on pleasing others that I forgot I have to please myself, too. I feel like that works as a pretty okay explanation, but if you're not satisfied with it then there's not much else I can tell you other than this:

I will try to update this fic as soon as I can. I'm slowly making progress and coming back around to it, even if I am only writing a couple of sentences every few days. Progress is progress, right?

Something I can tell you, though, is that I read everything you write to me, and it warms my very cold soul to see that some people didn't give up on me (or this fic, obvs) in times when I had given up on myself. I am nearly always on this website - in instances when I am not, I receive e-mails of my notifications - and if anyone would like someone to listen, or to offer a few words of simple encouragement, you know where to find me.

All of you are extremely sweet, incredibly kind, and caring people and I love you all from the bottom of my heart. I hope to have another chapter ready eventually, but this is it for now!

Love,

smokeynights

 

P.S. I hope everyone has a great 2017!


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